Such An Empty Space When You're Gone
by missparker85
Summary: SSHG. What if everyone had a prophecy in the department of mysteries? Destiny doesn't wait.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, when Hermione was feeling particularly helpless, she would go stand at the base of Dumbledore's white tomb and she would pray. Prayer was different for her now, as a witch in the midst of a war. She didn't exactly miss Sunday morning church with her parents and coming to Hogwarts had shaken her faith in a muggle God. But, it was war time and she felt that it couldn't hurt and so she would talk to Dumbledore and it was, almost, just like the prayers of her youth.

Seventh year had been dreadfully lonely so far. Harry and Ron had not returned as Harry had said. Hermione hadn't wanted to part from them but she simply couldn't drop out of school. It worked out for the best, though. Harry often wrote with questions for Hermione to research. Hermione at school kept the resources of Hogwarts at his fingertips. It was hard, still. Ginny was still inconsolable at the loss of Harry. Hermione was Head Girl and her N.E.W.T. classes kept her busy and listening to Ginny cry only made the loneliness inside her swell.

She'd taken to keeping to herself on her off-hours and going out side to linger on the edge of the boundaries, where she knew she would be alone.

It was Halloween and the clouds above threatened rain. Classes had only just ended and the wooden doors to the Great Hall were closed so Professor Flitwick could decorate for the feast. She knew she ought to be in there helping but she'd needed a breath of fresh air. It was cold, too cold for her skirt without tights and just a sweater vest. She'd left her bag and her cloak in her room and now she wished she'd gotten her scarf out of her trunk.

She didn't really have anything to say to the tomb so she was quiet. Even though she saw the storm gathering, she was surprised when it hit so suddenly and so hard. The main entrance to the castle was up a hill and on the other side. She was already drenched by the time she got to the top of the hill and she raced toward the looming building. She fished her wand out of the pocket hidden in the hem of her skirt and looked around. She had to think. There were several ways to get into the castle – the Marauder's Map had taught her that much but which was closest?

She approached the high stone wall and looked up. She was under a tall stained glass window that depicted the most beautiful Hogwarts founder, Rowena Ravenclaw. Hermione smiled to herself and felt around the wall for the stone that stuck out an inch further than the rest. She tapped her wand against it three times and the stones began to shift until it revealed a dark staircase that was damp and filled with the smell of mildew. She rushed in, grateful to be out of the rain.

The stairs led into the heart of the dungeons, far past the classroom used for potions and even past the Slytherin quarters. She'd studied the map carefully but she'd never actually used this passage before and when the portal closed behind her, she was plunged into darkness.

"Lumos," she whispered and the tip of her wand lit. Soon the stairs ended and she walked into a wide, stone room. There were shackles on the walls and she shuddered. She never knew the term 'dungeon' was so literal. Across the room was a door and through it a narrow hallway that, to her relief, was lit by sconces. A sign of life was appreciated and she quickened here pace. Another door greeted her; it too was closed but she could hear movement on the other side. Her heart sunk and she knew who was most probably on the other side. Steeling herself, she knocked loudly. A few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal professor Snape and what appeared to be his private lab behind him.

"How on earth did you get down here?" he asked, more surprised and curious than angry.

"Um, I…"

"Are you _wet_?" he asked, stepping aside so the light from the fire hit her. Her skirt was dripping and she stood in a puddle of water. She'd begun to shiver.

"Rain," she chattered.

"In the dungeon?" he asked.

"Outside," she said and he rolled his eyes but allowed her to enter the room.

"Go stand by the fire, Miss Granger," he said. Snape had been allowed back into his potions position by McGonagall after his name had been cleared by two things – the contents of Dumbledore's pensieve and a prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. Of course, Hermione didn't know the specifics but enough Order members had assured her that he was safe and she had been appeased.

"I got caught in the storm," she said, now that her teeth had stopped clacking and she'd dried her clothes as best she could with her wand. Her hair was still wet and limp but she couldn't be bothered with it.

"Yes, I can see that, but how did you end up here?" he asked. The room was filled with lab tables and simmering cauldrons and shelves lined with ingredients.

"Secret passage," she said. "Under the Ravenclaw window."

"I was unaware of that. How do you know of it?"

She looked away, unwilling to share her secret.

"I see," he said. "No matter."

"How do I get out of this section of the castle?" she asked, eager to get out from under his foot.

"You either go back the way you came or you go through my private chambers," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Sir, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Why were you outside?"

The thing about Snape was, Hermione had noticed, that without Ron and Harry, the man was perfectly cordial to her. It was almost more unsettling than unwarranted cruelty. He was doing it now, these almost pleasantries, and she found herself unable to lie to him.

"I was at Dumbledore's tomb, sir," she said and he looked away. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to talk about it. Dumbledore's portrait in the head office still hadn't woken up and McGonagall had told her that all portraits wake up in their own time. She'd told Hermione that the longest wait had been sixteen years. It couldn't be rushed.

"Perhaps you should go get ready for the feast. I'll show you the way out," he said. She nodded, grateful he didn't send her through the rain as he probably would have only a year ago.

"Thank you," she said and followed him out a door and into a sitting room. There was a sofa, another hearth, and a desk. It wasn't spacious but it was bigger than her room as Head Girl. She saw stacks of books and a few other doors that must've lead to the bedroom and bath. He walked briskly and she didn't have time to see much of anything before they were in a hallway. The entrance they'd just stepped out of had disappeared and looked like nothing more than a stretch of hallway.

"Now, straight up that way and up the stairs will take you to the Slytherin's entrance. I trust you can find your way from there," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Thanks again."

"Do try to use proper doorways from now on," he said. Blushing, she hurried away.

A hot shower improved her disposition greatly. Halloween tended to be a casual affair – nothing like the candy fueled holiday of her childhood. There were sweets, of course, but no costumes and no begging. Curfew was extended an hour and usually there was dancing and music in the common room. The excitement was not as high this year as in past years – at least in Gryffindor house. Having their star quidditch players absent made everything seem harsh.

Not really feeling like putting on stiff robes, Hermione put on jeans and a black jumper. She pinned her Head Girl badge to her jumper and Ginny knocked and came in while she was brushing out her hair.

"Hi," she said, sounding rather mopey. "It's raining."

"Yes, I'm aware," Hermione said. She'd decided not to tell anyone about her strange encounter with professor Snape. "What's up?"

"Bored," she said. "We're all just waiting for the bells to sound."

"Ah," Hermione said. "Want to do my hair?"

"Sure," Ginny said and stood behind Hermione who sat in front of her vanity. Ginny braided her hair in two thick braids and finished just as the bells began to ring for the feast.

"Thanks, let's go," she said, knowing she'd have to round up lagging students. By the time she sat down, the food had appeared and people had already tucked in. She sat on the end nearest the High table and helped herself, finding she was hungry. As the sugar entered the bloodstream of the younger students, McGonagall released the students to their common rooms and Hermione hung back to help banish the pumpkins from the ceilings. Most of the staff stayed at the table, sipping coffee or tea and watching Hermione and Flitwick wave their wands.

"Hermione was out by the tomb again," Snape said over the rim of his tea cup to McGonagall.

"That's the third time this week," McGonagall said, sadly.

"I know," he said. "It makes me feel like a right arse."

"You did what needed to be done," she said. "Let the girl grieve."

"I'm tired of grieving," he said.

oooo

Making Muggle electronics work within the walls of Hogwarts seemed difficult at first but was easily sidestepped. Seamus had a CD player in his dormitory and Hermione had helped him make it work when they were second years. Magic could be conducted much like electricity, after all. Remus had told her that they used to smuggle gramophones in and a motion spell along with a sound enhancement worked perfectly.

Hermione had brought to school her parent's old VHS player when she'd moved into the Head Girl chambers along with a small, portable television. It hadn't taken much to make it work and she preferred to have it on late at night when she couldn't sleep. She liked old black and white films, and the occasional sketch comedy show. The Halloween feast had made her full and antsy and she definitely couldn't sleep even though it was still fifteen minute minutes before curfew. She had fed her VCR with enough magic to last an hour and the energy it took made her feel sluggish so she laid in bed with all her clothes still on, watching the picture move and failing to chuckle along with the laugh track.

The knock on her door made her jump a little. Ginny tended to let herself in unannounced since she knew the password. She got up and opened the portrait. Professor McGonagall stood there smiling benignly, an expression that stood out terribly on her usually stern face.

"Hello," Hermione said.

"Miss Granger, I was wondering if I could have a moment?" McGonagall asked.

"Of course," Hermione said, and stepped aside to let her in. "Is something the matter?"

"What on earth is that?" McGonagall asked, walking up to the glowing television set.

"_A Bit of Fry and Laurie_," Hermione said. "I checked the handbook and it didn't say anything about Muggle appliances being forbidden."

"They don't work here, there was no need for a rule," McGonagall said.

"Everything works eventually," Hermione said, stopping the tape. "It just takes some thinking." McGonagall raised an eyebrow but she looked proud.

"Severus says you were caught in the storm," she said, sitting on the loveseat at the foot of the bed. Hermione stood, her socked feet just peaking out from beneath her long jeans. She looked young with her hair in braids and barefoot but when McGonagall looked at her face, she looked every bit her 18 years.

"I'm afraid I intruded on him quite a bit," Hermione admitted.

"I know it must be hard for you without…" McGonagall stopped and smiled that strange, small smile again. "We all make sacrifices for the war."

"Some more than others," Hermione said, thinking of the white tomb, thinking of Harry's last letter, thinking of Snape alone in his dungeon.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked. "I need my brightest witch and Head Girl in the best shape possible."

"I'm not in the habit of letting people down, Professor," she said. "You needn't worry." McGonagall looked as if she was holding something back, but the older witch stood and smoothed her tartan robes carefully.

"You're in the safest place you can be," She said. "Have a good night."

Hermione thought about McGonagall's parting words for a long time after she was left alone. The Order had worried about Hermione's safety before, but it was always when she was with or near Harry Potter. It seems strange to Hermione that they should be fretting over Hermione when Harry was so far away and she was in the castle, living life like nothing was the matter. She changed slowly for bed, pulling on her sweat pants and tank top slowly; the television had long since faded to darkness. She unraveled her hair and extinguished the lights and watched the heavy moon from her open window. She felt gnawingly alone.

oooo

November was always bitterly cold at Hogwarts and Hermione wore thick tights and gloves in the hallway between her classes. There was always a bout of cold and flu and Hermione had managed to avoid it until her final year. She woke up on a Wednesday and felt as if Delores Umbridge was sitting on her chest. Sitting up allowed a river of mucus and snot to flow from her nostrils and standing made her dizzy. A look in the mirror showed that she looked about as good as she felt.

"Drat," she said, pulling on her thick robe to ward off the chills. It was an hour until breakfast and so she thought it might be safe to roam the halls in her pajamas and robe since hardly anyone got up earlier than she did. It was freezing out of her portrait and she sniffled her way sadly up to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey sat at her desk writing out what looked to be order forms for Professor Snape and she looked up when the heavy doors were pushed open.

"Miss Granger!" Madame Pomfrey said, standing. "What brings you here?"

"I feel…" Hermione searched for the correct word. "Icky."

Madame Pomfrey suppressed a smile and walked over to her.

"Children showing up in their robes is always a sign of illness," Pomfrey said. "Have a seat on a bed and I'll look you over." Hermione sunk down gratefully and closed her eyes against the poking and prodding of the mediwitch. Pomfrey's hands felt cool against Hermione's skin and she didn't mind that.

"Miss Granger," Pomfrey called. "Wake up."

Hermione opened her eyes and looked around. She was tucked into the bed and Pomfrey hovered over her with a tray.

"What happened?"

"You fell asleep during my exam and I thought it best that you just rest," Pomfrey said. "Your lunch is here."

"Lunch!" Hermione said, sitting up. "Ow."

"Yes, you have a nasty fever and I can't do anything about it properly until you have something in your stomach," Pomfrey said. The lunch tray fit over her knees and she wasn't very hungry. There was a bowl of soup, mostly broth, and a dinner roll.

"What about my classes?" Hermione asked.

"Someone will bring you your assignments, dear, don't worry," Pomfrey said. "Miss Weasley already popped in to see you but you were sleeping."

Hermione ate her broth slowly and was exhausted from the effort. The infirmary was empty save for her and Pomfrey so the mediwitch took her lunch nearby so Hermione wouldn't feel alone.

"I hardly ever get sick," Hermione said, when Pomfrey cleared the tray for her. "Why now?"

"You did get caught in that storm," Pomfrey pointed out. Hermione wondered if every knew about that.

"That was a week ago," she said.

"It still could have compromised your immune system," Pomfrey said. She handed Hermione three vials of potions that didn't look promising. "Take these like a good girl and you'll feel better."

The contents of the vials were terribly bitter and after the first one, she eyed the second and third one warily.

"Go on," Pomfrey said, losing her patience. Hermione plugged her nose for the second and the third one, gratefully, put her right back into a dreamless sleep. It was dark when she woke again feeling vastly improved. On the bedside table was a stack of homework and a get well card from Ginny. Inside it said, "P.S. Get your own potions homework."

Ginny was not one to champion Snape. Hermione asked Madame Pomfrey if she could go.

"Come and get another dose tomorrow," Pomfrey said. "Use the floo if you don't want to go back in your night things." Popping directly into her fireplace was most convenient. She'd missed dinner but had no appetite anyway. A shower washed the infirmary from her skin and she, dressed, wrapped her scarf around her neck. The scarves this year were dark grey with a stripe of gold and red along the fringe. Most students disliked them and had reverted back to the previous year's design but Hermione liked this unobtrusive style.

Snape's office door was firmly closed but she knocked anyway and was just about to leave when she heard him call for her to enter.

"I've come for my assignment, sir," she said.

"You missed a day of brewing," he accused.

"I was ill, sir," she defended.

"I know, I made sure of that myself."

"You visited me?" she asked.

"Hardly. I merely researched your absence."

"Hmm," she said. "I'm sorry I missed it, regardless."

"You'll be behind a day but there isn't a reading assignment. Come in tomorrow after dinner and you may catch up before Friday," he said.

Hermione, shocked at any amount of extra effort on his part, agreed and left before he changed his mind. She felt worse in the morning again and got her second dose, without the sleeping draught and made it through the day feeling moderately well. By the time dinner was finished, she was tired and just wanted to lay down. Still, she made her way down the stairs and entered the classroom. He was there and waited patiently for her to set up her cauldron and he came and sat at her bench. He'd never done that before – always pacing the aisles or sitting behind his dark, wooden desk. She wondered if he was trying to unsettle her on purpose. The instructions were on the board and so she started.

"I know you're tired, Miss Granger, but you can't hurry this one," he said quietly, watching her mince. She breathed and slowed her knife.

"Sorry," she said. He watched her slide her ingredient from the knife into the cauldron and sit down on the stool to adjust the heat and wait. "May I ask you something?"

"I don't promise to answer."

"As a member of the Order, not as my potions professor," she amended.

"All right," he said.

"Why… Why was professor McGonagall so worried for my safety?"

"Did she tell you that?" he asked.

"She said something about the castle being the safest place for me."

"That's always been the case," he said, sitting up straight.

"But Harry isn't even here," she said.

"Potter," Snape spat, sounding more like his old self. "You are connected with the Order and you are a member of this war. We all need protection."

"It felt like something more," she said, "That's all." He smoothed the cuff of one sleeve.

"Add your egg sac," he said. "No explosions tonight."

"Not tonight," she agreed.

"You shouldn't paint yourself always in the shadow of Potter," he said. "I daresay he'd be dead if not for your thirst for knowledge."

"Academically, perhaps, but Harry only really needs Harry."

"I've noticed," he said, dryly. "Counter-clockwise, Miss Granger."

"Sorry," she said.

"Don't apologize; focus." he chastised. They lapsed into silence.

"I feel trapped in this castle," she said, on their next break.

"Is that why you've been outside?"

"You know where I've been?"

"You're the Head Girl. You're noticed when you're gone," he said. "Plus I can see you out the window of the staff room."

"I miss my friends. It's not an active missing, though. I would still be Head Girl, still go to class, still get the flu were they here."

"Your flame is too high," he said and she lowered it. "Go on."

"Do you think more students will die in this war?"

"Yes," he said. "I think I will die and I fear you will as well. But I am not an optimist."

"I feel like," she dropped in her next ingredient. "If Voldemort wins, I'd prefer to die."

"A wise choice. Put on your stasis and finish tomorrow." She did and levitated her cauldron to the side of the room.

"Thanks for the extra time," she said.

"When you find yourself feeling trapped, Miss Granger, come find me. I have something that may help," he said. She left on that ambiguous note.

oooo

Hermione almost liked doing her rounds. Her curfew, as Head Girl, was an hour later so she could roam the halls and extract points from students still out. She and the Head Boy, Blaise Zabini, stayed out later at nights and a professor tended to be out, too. Any student daring enough to be out was smart enough not to be caught, however, so Hermione used the time to think.

Sometimes she and Blaise would meet in the kitchen for a late snack. Harry and Ron weren't the only student that had failed to appear for their seventh year. Draco and six other Slytherin seventh years didn't come back. This list included Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson.

Blaise had turned out to be nearly pleasant to her. He was a rich, pureblood who strove for greatness but he didn't cut throats to get there. He tended to use the proper channels like getting good grades, becoming Head Boy, and internships with the ministry. Hermione enjoyed performing their duties together. They both felt a little alone within their own houses but as Head prefects, they could be above petty house rivalries.

This night, though, she wasn't hungry and didn't feel like chatting with Blaise. It was only half past the hour and she stopped at the hourglasses that tallied the house points. Hufflepuff had 126, Ravenclaw had 240, Slytherin had 315 and Gryffindor had 320. Hermione wondered how Hufflepuff always managed to earn one point at a time. She'd never encountered the professor who did that. The stones weren't moving and Blaise had probably skivved off to bed. Hermione sat on the bottom step of the staircase.

"Waiting for delinquents to come to you?" Snape said, stepping out from a shadow of a suit of armor.

"You never know," she said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. She felt caught in the act.

"Mr. Zabini has already retired for the night so you might as well do the same," he said. "It's a quiet night."

"Perhaps," she said. "It's rather cold."

"All this magic cannot keep old stones warm," he agreed. "Goodnight."

"Night, Professor," she said and he watched her disappear up the stairs before he finished his rounds.

In her room, the fire was hot and she couldn't sleep. Snow fell outside and she piled her window seat with pillows and blankets and made a nest where she could watch the snow gather on the bows of the trees that lined the forbidden forest.

It was almost Christmas now.

She woke in the same cramped position around four am. The sky outside was still dark but even after she moved back to bed, she couldn't sleep. She stoked the fire and infused her television with magic and put on a movie. She was asleep before the magic ran out.


	2. Chapter 2

The weekend brought the last Hogsmeade visit before the Christmas holidays. She almost decided not to go except for the pleading of Ginny, Neville, and Luna. She bundled up and they all rode in a carriage together, talking over the rush of the wind around them. It was good to get out and the Three Broomsticks was crowded and warm. Hermione was the only one of age to drink but she was more than content with butterbeers and they crowded into a booth. She listened to them talk and kept her silence. Finally, she had a question.

"How has Snape been treating you all?" she asked.

"I don't take him anymore," Neville said gratefully.

"Loathes me," Ginny said. Hermione looked to Luna who stared back dreamily.

"Quite well," she said.

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.

"Ravenclaws rarely upset him," she explained.

"But, is it different than previous years?" Hermione prodded.

"Is what different?" Luna asked.

"What is this about?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know. Snape has been… helpful," she said. "Not cruel."

"Maybe he fancies you," Luna said, stringing her latest butterbeer cork onto her ever growing necklace. All heads swiveled to stare at her.

"That's a ghastly thing to say," Ginny scolded. Luna just shrugged.

"Let's go to Honeydukes," Hermione suggested, sorry she'd even brought it up. Everyone agreed and soon they were crammed in the crowded sweet shop and Hermione nipped out to go to the bookstore which was, unsurprisingly, mostly empty. She skimmed the new release table and ran her fingers along the fresh spines. Suddenly a name popped out at her and she picked up the book.

"_Potions Misunderstood _by Severus Snape?" she exclaimed.

"I had to do something over the summer," the low voice said behind her. She jumped and spun around to see the author in question.

"Stop _doing_ that!"

"Excuse me?" Snape asked.

"Sneaking up behind me, it's so…"

"Slytherin? Yes, I've heard that before."

She glowered and opened the book.

"Some of these are dark potions," she said.

"Merely considered to be so," he said. "Misunderstood."

"Ah," she said. "How is it selling?"

"Quite poorly. I'm not at my most popular."

"I'll read it," she said and walked up to the counter so she could pay for it while he watched with a smirk.

"Do tell me what you think," he said. "I was just heading back, care to share a carriage?"

"Oh, well, I ought to stay with my friends…" she said, glancing across the window to Honeydukes. She could see Ginny arguing with one of her friends and she couldn't see Neville or Luna. She was tired and finding them felt like a chore. "All right."

They left the shop and started the crisp walk to the site where the carriages waited. It was early and most of the thestrals stomped their feet with their blinders on. Snape let her climb in first and once they were settled facing each other, the carriage took off and Hermione thought about her family's car with the hot air that blew from the dashboard.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm thinking about my family," she said, and it was kind of true. Her father's hands on the steering wheel; his thick gold band was tarnished from the powder inside the latex gloves he wore.

"Miss Granger, you can't go home for Christmas," he said.

"I'm not surprised," she said. "Because I need the safety of Hogwarts? Because of the thing that no one will tell me about?"

"There is no _thing_," he said.

"Like hell!" she cried. His eyes widened slightly.

"My, my," he said.

"I used to be the one who knew everything," she said, softly. "At least, I could always find the answer. I realize now that I was merely following Dumbledore's bread trails but the bread is gone now and my life is… completely out of my hands."

"You're not alone in that," he said. "We're all puppets."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" she asked.

"My job isn't to comfort you," he snapped.

"You do, though," she said. "Maybe that's the scariest part of it all."

He was saved a reply by the carriage stopping and she hopped out, not wanting to be in the confining space any longer. But she didn't walk toward the castle, she walked toward the lake which was frozen over. He kept up with her.

"Maybe, with my death so imminent on the horizon, maybe being sour all the time has started to lose its appeal," he said, his large footprints in the snow dwarfing her tiny ones.

"Where was the appeal in the first place?" she asked, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Try it, it's freeing," he said. "Say something horrible to me."

"I couldn't," she said.

"You're thinking it right now," he said. "Just say it out loud."

"Okay, fine," she said. "I think you'll side with whichever side wins." He stopped and stared at her. "Was it too much?"

"I thought you would call my hair greasy or my skin sallow," he said. "Not attack my character."

"But you said –"

"You did fine," he said. "Nice and cutting."

"Let's both be kind now," she said.

"Hmph," he said. "Kind is a stretch." They reached the edge of the lake and the ice was thin enough so she could see the water moving underneath.

"Sometimes it gets cold enough to skate on," she commented. "I only tried it once and ended up bruised."

"When the time comes, Miss Granger, you'll know all that you need to know," he said. She wiped her nose and turned back to the castle. Her hair whipped around her as the wind picked up and they both started to walk back. "I'm sorry you can't go home."

"No matter," she said.

"Perhaps you could show me the entrance you used under the window," he said. "While no one is here."

"No one but the younger students who have nothing better to do than look out windows and wish they were in Hogsmeade?" she chuckled. "I'll show you, but perhaps if you hadn't been such an ornery Slytherin recluse, you'd have learned of it too."

"Now that was sour. 10 points to Gryffindor."

"That counts!" she said. "You just gave me points!"

"I'll deny it until the end," he assured her. "Here we are." Hermione, pleased, tapped the stone and he watched the opening appear. "Fantastic."

"Not really one of the better ones," she corrected. "It's one way. You can go in but…"

"Oh," he said.

"Perhaps I'll get a better look at your bookshelf this time," she smirked.

"Perhaps," he said. "Does that mean I get an invitation into the Head Girl's room?"

She was struck then with the impropriety of their situation. He had brought it on himself, but still. She was still his student. Luna's comment rang in her ears.

"Let's go," she said, confident now that she knew the way. He had to open the door to his lab and his quarters. She expected the march right through again but he removed his outside wear and poured two cups of tea. "I take sugar," she said.

"You may look but not borrow," he said. She took the cup which warmed her fingers and stepped up to the bookshelf though she wasn't focused at all on the titles.

"Am I the first student to be in here?" she asked, needing to break the tension.

"Mr. Malfoy, once," he said. "We're not breaking any rules."

"I'm not afraid of getting in trouble any more," she said. "What does it matter anyway? You seem to think we're both marching toward the guillotine."

"Well," he said. "No pretenses here."

"Just following your lead," she said. She drank her tea and looked back at the bookshelf.

"Fair enough," he said, sitting down. Far above them, the bells chimed three o'clock.

"I really have to go," she said, setting her tea down on the silver tray. "They'll be coming home soon."

"Of course," he said. "See you at dinner." She let herself out, much warmer than when she'd come in.

oooo

"Where the bloody hell did you go?" Ginny asked as Hermione entered the common room.

"You wouldn't believe me," Hermione said. "I'm starving, you want to nip down to the kitchens?"

"Yeah, to get a bite of _what is going on_?" she asked. "It isn't like you to… to ditch us."

"I didn't meant to ditch you, Gin. I'm sorry. I rode back with Professor Snape and lost track of time."

Ginny started to laugh.

"I'm sorry, I just thought I heard you say you lost track of time with Snape. But that would be _insane,_" she said, all traces of humor gone from her voice.

"All we did is ride back in the same carriage," Hermione defended.

"Oh, I see, so you lost track of time in the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to Hogwarts?" Ginny said. "That makes sense."

"…and took a walk," she said.

"And?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms.

"Had some tea, but it was perfectly innocent," Hermione said. "Besides, I don't know who made you your mother all of a sudden, but you're very bossy about now."

"You know what? I think Luna's right. Snape does fancy you and that's weird and gross," Ginny said.

"He doesn't fancy me," Hermione sighed. "I think he's being nice to me out of guilt, mostly."

"Guilt for what?" Ginny asked. "Besides the last six years…"

"I'm not sure yet. When I figure it out, though, you'll be the first to know, okay?"

"Fine," Ginny said. "I'm going to go do my Astronomy chart with Luna anyway."

"Now who is ditching whom?" Hermione called as Ginny climbed out of the portrait hole into the castle. Hermione, alone again, went back to her room where she at least knew Crookshanks loved her. When she got there, however, he was asleep under the bed and no amount of coaxing brought him out.

oooo

Hermione rode with Ginny to the train station to see her off. Hermione was the only student who had been forced to stay behind at the castle. Generally, students had the option of hanging back, but this year, McGonagall had announced that Hogwarts would be closed to students during the holidays for 'renovations.' A spark of hope had flared in Hermione's chest but when she looked up to the high table at Snape, he'd shook his head and she'd pouted her way through the rest of the meal. Her only consolation was proof that something more sinister was happening and it involved her.

"It's rubbish you can't even come to the Burrow," Ginny said, hugging Hermione on the platform.

"I agree," she said.

"I'll owl everything," Ginny promised. "Maybe Professor McGonagall will change her mind, anyway."

"Maybe," Hermione said, but she didn't believe that would happen one bit. "Have a happy Christmas."

"You too," Ginny said, as steam began to billow from the Hogwarts Express. "Bye!"

Hermione waved until the train had pulled from the station and then turned back toward the castle. Snape was standing with his hands in a muffler, watching her.

"Come to escort me back to my prison?" she called.

"Yes," he said. "And it's bloody cold, so let's go."

"I'm walking," she said, passing the him and the lone carriage that waited for her.

"It's over a mile!" he exclaimed.

"It's a lovely day," she countered.

"It's going to blizzard tonight, you half-wit," he scowled.

"Name calling is supposed to convince me otherwise?" she called back over her shoulder. "Not likely." She was pleased when, thought muttering under his breath, he caught up to her brisk pace.

"I understand," he said. "You're punishing me, but you shouldn't kill the messenger."

"I'm not giving you a root canal, Professor, I'm asking you to go for a walk."

"Root canal?" he asked. She smiled.

"My parents are dentists… teeth doctors. It's where you… never mind. It's unpleasant."

"I really am sorry you must stay," he said.

"I know how you can make it up," she said, her breathing heavier as they crested a hill. Hogwarts came magnificently into view.

"Do you?" he asked.

"I do, in fact. You can tell me about it."

"It?" he asked.

"It. The reason I can't go home. The reason I'm being watched oh-so-carefully. The reason, professor, why you've been nice to me," she said. "And you can bloody well start right now."

"No," he said. "That's not my place." She scowled at him but he remained silent until they reached Hogwarts and he pulled open the heavy, wooden door and let her enter first.

"Professor," she asked, "What am I to do with myself for all of this time?" Christmas was still days away and no students would return until after the new year. There was only so much homework one could do, even if one was Hermione Granger.

"Whatever you wish, I suppose, within certain boundaries," he said.

"I'm _already_ bored," she said. "I'll have no one to talk to, no purpose for my days."

"That's rather dramatic," he commented. "If I were you, I'd appreciate the time alone – it's rare in a bustling castle."

She scoffed.

"Professor, you're always alone, bustling or no." He glanced at her through narrowed eyes and she thought she might have gone too far. "I didn't mean…"

"I know what you meant," he snapped. "Introversion isn't a crime."

"No," she amended, "But don't you ever get lonely?"

"Lonely is for weak people."

"I don't believe that," she said, softly. They still were standing in the front hall where it was quickly getting dark as the sun set. Soon, house elves would sweep soundlessly through the castle lighting lamps and sconces. Now, though, they were still in shadows.

"Come to breakfast," he said. "We'll think of something to do."

"All right," she said. They parted ways and she spent the rest of the evening taking his advice and appreciating time alone with herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Breakfast was an hour later than during term and she slept in gratefully. It was nice to go to the meal without having to put on a tie or a cloak. She wore jeans and a thick, knit sweater that her mum had sent. It was green, very dark, and she rarely wore it but it was the holidays and she didn't care to worry about house colors. The only place settings were at the high table and professor Sprout was the only one there, drinking an enormous cup of coffee with her eyes half closed.

"Am I to sit up here?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, yes dear, seemed cruel to segregate you," Sprout said, waving Hermione up the stairs to the seat next to her. "Coffee?" Hermione accepted a cup, adding some thick cream and a teaspoon of sugar. She sipped at it waiting for it to cool while the staff trickled in. McGonagall sat next to her, looking rather apologetic. Snape arrived last and sat on the far end of the table. Hermione didn't say much – Herbology wasn't on her schedule anymore and McGonagall was talking about the O.W.L.s with Flitwick on her other side. She ate her toast and a few bites of eggs but she kept stealing glances at Snape, wondering what he had planned for the day.

She'd also been thinking about what was keeping her in the castle. She thought maybe Voldemort planned to capture her but it seemed unlikely after having six years to do so – but she couldn't think of anything else. Harry swore he didn't know anything and she believed him.

Soon, the breakfast dishes were being cleared and the staff began to leave the great hall to do whatever it was that they did when they weren't teaching. Snape was still seated, nursing a tea pot and she moved down to sit next to him.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"Hmph," he said into his porcelain cup. "Rarely."

"Yes, well, I'm curious to know what you have planned," she said.

"Are you?" he asked. "How unlike you to be curious."

"Yes, yes, sarcasm and you," she said. "I'm bored, let's go."

"We'll go when I'm good and ready," he said.

"At least tell me what we're doing," she pestered.

"Brewing for Madame Pomfrey."

"Really?"

"We must first inventory her stock," he said. Hermione was pleased with this task – good, hard work always made the time pass. Madame Pomfrey, Snape had informed her, went away for the holidays to visit her brother and his family in Germany, so the infirmary was empty.

"What if someone gets injured?" she asked, as they entered the hospital wing.

"St. Mungo's by floo," he said.

They spent the morning sorting through Pomfrey's cupboards, disposing of expired contents, and taking note of what was there. By lunch time, they had finished and had sandwiches, eating them sitting on the crisp, white beds while making a brewing itinerary. Some things could be brewed in an hour, some in a day, one would take two weeks. It said a lot about her brewing skills that Snape allowed her to assist him. After lunch, they moved to his supply closet to inventory his stocks and she was surprised at the sheer amount of things that he had in there. The expense alone was phenomenal. She'd been in there before, briefly, to knick polyjuice ingredients but that was before she'd appreciated the value of good ingredients and she hadn't spent much time looking around. They were short a few things.

"I'll have to go to town," he murmured, making notations on his parchment with a pencil she'd had in her pocket. He'd scoffed at the Muggle writing tool but when he used the eraser, he'd asked to keep it.

"Hogsmeade?" she asked, thinking of her last minute Christmas shopping.

"I shouldn't be more than an hour," Snape said, rolling the parchment and tucking it into his robe.

"Oh," she said, realizing she wasn't invited.

"Sorry," he said. "I highly doubt Minerva would allow you to leave the grounds."

"Have you asked?" she said. "I'm perfectly safe with you."

"Well."

"Let's ask," she said. "Town sounds lovely." He scowled and she followed him, pleased, to the fireplace in his classroom. He threw a pinch of floo powder into the flames.

"Minerva McGonagall," he said. In a few moments, her face appeared in the flames.

"Yes?" she asked, sounding tired.

"Miss Granger wishes to accompany me to town," he said.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," McGonagall said.

"Please!" Hermione whispered behind him.

"I'm perfectly capable of protecting her for an hour," he said.

"But you yourself heard the proph-"

"MINERVA! Yes or no?" he said, cutting her off at the quick.

"No," she snapped, realizing Hermione had been listening and her head disappeared. Snape stood, rubbed his knees, and looked over at Hermione who sat on a stool looking pale with her mouth hanging open.

"Unfortunate," he said.

"Is there… is there a prophecy about me?" she asked, not caring a bit about Hogsmeade any longer.

"Miss Granger," he began and she could see him trying to come up with something that would take them away from the current conversation.

"It would be very easy for me to walk out of the school gates and apparate home, so please give me a reason to stay," she said.

"If you do that, there is a very high chance you will be killed," he said.

"Why?"

"It's time we go speak to the headmistress," he said quietly. "I suspect she's expecting us now anyway." He was right, the gargoyle had already risen and the concrete steps were exposed. Hermione climbed them with Snape just behind her. McGonagall sat at the desk looking stern and vaguely guilty.

"We've got to tell her," Snape said, motioning for Hermione to take a seat, which she did.

"Obviously," McGonagall said. "Tell me, Miss Granger, what do you know about Professor Snape's return to Hogwarts?"

"You mean, about your name being cleared?" she asked, looking at him. He nodded. "Well, there was the pensieve that exonerated you and the prophecy but I haven't a clue as to what either said."

"You're right," McGonagall said. "There is a prophecy about you, Miss Granger, and you share it with professor Snape."

Hermione certainly hadn't expected this.

"What did it say? Is it in the department of mysteries with Harry's? Who prophesized it?" she asked and McGonagall addressed her questions in reverse order.

"Professor Trelawney," she said. "I know you have your… professional differences but her visions and prophecies tend to be real. Some of them. We have not notified the ministry archive as it is more useful to the Order as secret."

"So it's new," Hermione commented.

"Sybil prophesied after you arrived for your education here," McGonagall said. "Harry and you-know-who share a prophecy just as you two do."

"One must die while the other lives," Hermione murmured. "I can't imagine the same goes for…" she didn't want to say 'us' like she had some sort of claim on him or him on her or any otherwise.

"No," he said. "It isn't quite the same."

"May I hear it?" she asked. "I should like to draw my own conclusions."

Snape nodded and stood, gesturing for her to do the same, to face him. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was – he was over six feet and she wasn't much over five. He took out his wand and placed it to his temple, extracting a sliver strand meant for a pensieve. Instead, he brought the tip to her temple and she felt the memory slide into her consciousness. It was unsettling, having a memory that did not belong to her. She was seeing something through another's eyes. It was hard to explain why things were so different – proportions were wrong, colors seemed off slightly, but she saw everything clearly.

Sybil Trelawney with her head thrown back, her voice unnaturally low in her throat, her eyes only white, cloudy orbs in her head. She had to go blind to really see, it seemed.

Soon, the hard, warm tip of Snape's wand moved away from her head and the memory faded and stopped being her own. The silver strand returned to Snape's mind.

"What does restore and rebuild the royalty of Hogwarts Castle mean?" she asked.

"I'm the rehabilitated spy," Snape said, "and you're quite obviously the Gryffindor queen."

"Obviously? It could mean you, Professor McGonagall," Hermione argued.

"No, dear," she said. "The part about the fastening of hands for the greater stability of the race? That indicates a marriage."

Hermione blinked and stared and Snape knew she understood but he explained it anyway.

"The battle will happen here, probably, and damage the castle physically as well as metaphorically. Sybil predicted that you and a I will bear the responsibility of rebuilding and that, in some chain of events, we will wed – stabilizing the race because I'm a half-blood and you're Muggle born and it isn't another marriage of purebloods," he said.

"As well as ending, hopefully, the rift between your houses," McGonagall piped up.

"And the bit about the cat losing her 9th life?" Hermione asked, sadly.

"Don't you worry about that, Miss Granger," McGonagall said quickly.

"Recently…" Snape said, "This information has been passed on to the dark lord. His knowledge of your place in this war makes you a target."

"This prophecy existing at all predicts his failure," Hermione pointed out.

"He is not pleased," Snape said.

"With you, I'd imagine," Hermione said.

"No. I am out of his inner circle and my life is in danger as well. I can no longer work as a spy," he said.

"Is that why you've been, well, nice to me?" she asked. He didn't respond. "Professor, I respect you greatly but the idea of marriage is foreign and shocking."

"I agree," he said.

"Just because you are aware of this prophecy doesn't mean you are to change your behavior," McGonagall pointed out. "You are still his student, Miss Granger, and prophecies don't come with a time table."

"I understand," she said.

"So please stop trying to escape the castle," Snape said.

"Fair enough," she said. "You shouldn't leave either."

"I'm perfectly capable-" Snape said, raising his voice.

"You think you are indestructible-" Hermione shouted back.

"Enough!" McGonagall said. "You'll both stay. I will run your errands in town."

Hermione and Snape shot each other a foul look and Snape placed his list in McGonagall's outstretched hand.

"We can brew tomorrow," Snape said as they left the office.

"Fine," she snapped. He stalked back down to the dungeon with a flair of black fabric and she stalked up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room where she flopped on the sofa in front of the fire for a good forty-five minutes.

oooo

She didn't go down to dinner, instead choosing to lay in her bed with her face pressed into Crookshanks who purred loudly on her pillow. At 11:30, well after normal curfew, she decided to steal down to the kitchens. She tickled the pears and the frame opened, letting her into the warm, lit kitchen. She was surprised to see Snape sitting at the wooden table. A small elf approached her tentatively.

"Does the Miss wish for a plate too?" she asked in a high, squeaky voice. Snape turned and saw her with an expression of surprise.

"Please," Hermione said to the elf.

"Miss Granger," Snape greeted sourly.

"Professor," she acknowledged. "Did you skip dinner as well?"

"I did," he said. "And then I couldn't sleep."

"I couldn't either," she admitted. She sat next to him and the elf brought two plates heaped with food and two glasses of pumpkin juice.

"I was just going to take this," he said.

"Oh, all right."

"Bu since you're here, I'll stay."

"Fine," she said and they stayed seated. They ate with little conversation. She'd spent several hours imagining herself being Mrs. Snape and while it was jarring, it wasn't impossible. She also thought about the term 'queen of Gryffindor' and even though she was the top student of her house and most of the time, the school, she didn't exactly feel like royalty. Ginny came to mind, being an umpteenth generation of Gryffindor, a Leo astrologically, and Harry's girlfriend.

"What about Ginny Weasley?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up from the remains of his pork chop.

"Queen of Gryffindor."

"Her name came up, but…" he shrugged. "I could never imagine any sort of life with her."

"Oh. But you… with me?"

"I'm not very comfortable talking about this," he said.

"Please try," she said. "I've never been unsure about my future before."

"I cannot," he said, pushing his plate away. She felt a shot of anger enter her bloodstream and left the kitchen, left him hunched and alone.

Two hours later she still wasn't sleeping and the only light in her room came fro the tiny television playing a black and white American film from the 1940s. She was startled by a loud knocking at her portrait. She pulled on her robe and answered the door.

"I apologize for earlier," Snape said, looking as tired as she felt. She stepped aside and he entered tentatively. "What is that?"

"Muggle technology," she said, tiredly. "For entertainment."

"A television?" he asked.

"I charmed it."

"What are you watching?" he asked. She sat on the foot of her bed and patted the mattress and he sat as well, squinting to watch the moving picture.

"That's Katharine Hepburn," Hermione said. "And she's set to marry that oaf but she's really in love with Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant."

"How scandalous."

"She ends up ditching her fiancé and remarries her ex-husband," Hermione said. "So not too scandalous."

"I suppose not."

"I accept your apology," she said.

"Good." He looked over at her and watched her watch the television. The shoulder of her robe had slid and he saw the thin, white stripe of her nightgown against her skin. It was terribly inappropriate for him to be there and they both knew it. Her hair was in those thick braids again, sloppy and long and he reached out to pull on the bottom of one where it hung by her bicep. "You're too old for these."

"It's practical for sleeping," she said, looking at him.

"Are pretty white nightgowns made for practical purposes?" he asked, swallowing.

"I suppose not."

"I've known about this prophecy for five years," he admitted. "And now that you know too, it's hard to look at you."

"Please try," she said again but he was looking at her already, still touching her hair, running his thumb along the elastic band that held it.

"I should go," he said.

"I'm scared. It's dark and I'm tired of being alone and tired of being nervous and frightened."

"It's too early for that, still," he assured her.

"Will you stay?"

"Hermione-"

"Until I fall asleep?" she asked. He nodded once and she crawled into the bed and looked at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. "No one is here," she reminded him.

So, throwing caution to the wind, he toed off his boots and laid back against the other pillow stiffly, fully clothed and above the covers. She closed her eyes and he waited.

She woke up, briefly, still yet before the sun rose because she was cold. She was under the covers and so she scooted toward Snape who was sleeping heavily beside her. She was surprised he hadn't gone but she pressed against him, pushing her head against his shoulder and slid her toes under his legs. When she woke again it was to use the toilet and the sky was just approaching early morning. Upon her absence, Snape had turned onto his stomach and pressed his face into her pillow where her head had been. She stood and watched him, scratching her bare leg with her socked toe. She'd shed her robe in the bathroom because she was too warm and now she was only in her nightgown but she was still bleary eyed. She climbed back onto the bed, her side more cramped now that he'd shifted, but didn't slip under the duvet because sometime during the night the elves had stoked the fire. Her legs were bare from knee to ankle and she faced away from him, bending her knees, her head on the very edge of the pillow. She was so close to him, though not touching him and when she closed her eyes, it was hard to sleep.

oooo

Snape woke up for the strangest reason – he felt very comfortable. He was warm and well-rested and his muscles were like mush. His arm was around Hermione's waist and he knew this, knew it was wrong, but his lips were resting against her shoulder and he thought she was awake because she was so still. He pulled his mouth back and she turned her head a little, not so she could see him but so he could see her.

"When we're married, will you still sleep so kindly with me?" she asked softly, though her voice was crisp in the quiet room.

"Yes," he said and she placed her hand against his on her hip. It was past time for his to leave so he sat up and tried to smooth his wrinkled clothes. She sat up also, crossing her arms across her breasts. "We can start to brew today after breakfast."

"All right," she said, though she looked ill-prepared to go on like nothing had happened. "Tomorrow is Christmas."

"Yes. We'll take the day off. There is still a feast, even though it's only us and you."

"I'll be lonely."

"Perhaps," he said. She watched him put on his shoes.

"Thank you," she said. He nodded and she watched him go.

oooo

After breakfast, they walked down to his lab to find that McGonagall had left the required ingredients and she watched him begin to set up, careful not to get in his way. Finally, he motioned for her to approach the table and they started preparing the ingredients with Hermione on the knife and Snape on the Mortar and Pestle. Their movements were precise and focused and only when that step was finished did Hermione speak.

"If anyone were to find out about last night, would I get expelled?"

Snape didn't answer right away, instead lighting all the burners beneath her cauldrons.

"No. Minerva is prepared to turn a blind eye in deference to the prophecy."

"Is that right?" she asked.

"Everything changes, Hermione, even the rules," he explained.

"All right. Then you'll come again tonight?" He was impressed and surprised at her boldness.

"Perhaps," he said. "We'll see."

oooo

In her room, alone, she knew Christmas eve was in full swing either at The Burrow or 12 Grimmauld Place but the ache to be out of the castle had begun to dull. She still felt unsure about her future but she at least felt as if she had a purpose and that was comforting on some level. She had just come from the shower when he knocked and she let him in. His arrival was much more thrilling this time because it was on purpose and she received him like a woman, not a girl. He came late so there wouldn't be time to idly fill and she was glad. She was tired from being in the lab all day and when he came, she lowered the lights and he removed not only his shoes but his frockcoat and vest and she removed her robe and they both got into bed – under the duvet this time – with a few inches between them, like a marriage bed. Hermione knew she would never tell Harry or Ron about this moment because it was too unbelievable. They would laugh or yell and either would anger her.

"Goodnight," she said and he put the lights to darkness.

"Goodnight," he echoed and she heard him swallow and she tried not to move because she didn't want to disturb him. A few thick minutes passed and then she turned on her side to face him. He looked over at her and nodded a little, giving her permission to scoot into him and put her head against his shoulder. He lifted his arm around her and she curled into him. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes."

He was warm and the feeling of his pulse against her skin lulled her to sleep.

Sometime in the night, snow began to fall in earnest, leaving a thick white strip on her windowsill and frost on her windowpanes. Inside the room was warm and they slept through the night. Snape woke first at the seven am chiming of the bells because he was not used to being so close to them. They woke him out of the fog of sleep slowly and he squirmed slightly, upsetting Hermione who stretched and opened her eyes.

"It's Christmas," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"It's only seven, go back to sleep."

But once she woke up, that was it. He was already beginning to sink back under when he felt her fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, working from the top down.

"Be careful," he warned.

"I'm curious. If we are to be married, I'd like to know what I'm in for," she explained.

"I don't want to get you into anymore trouble that I already have."

She wasn't sure if he meant the prophecy, the sleeping, he detentions, or years of house points but she didn't care.

"Even I can't control my hormones," she said. He couldn't be expected to resist that and so she peeled back the panels of his shirt to reveal is pale chest. "Now what?"

"Oh please tell me you've done this before," he groaned.

"Yes…and no," she said, sitting back.

"Which means?"

"While I technically retain my virginity, I am not completely without experience," she said. "I was raised to… save myself for my wedding night."

"How pious," he said.

"Don't make me feel bad," she said, frowning. "It's obviously going to be you, so you should be pleased."

"I haven't actually asked you, you know," he said.

"Oh," she said. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad," he said and touched her forearm. "Come on, it's Christmas and I'm sure Minerva wants to see everyone at breakfast."

"Sure," she said. She started to get up but he held on to her arm and she looked back at him, curious. He leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth lightly. She blushed and smiled at him. She went into the bathroom and when she came back out he was gone.

oooo

When Ginny Weasley showed up for Christmas dinner as a surprise, Hermione burst into tears from the relief. Everyone at the feast stared at her, shocked at such uncharacteristic behavior from the Head Girl, but Ginny understood and hugged her friend.

"She's fine," Ginny assured the audience and Snape felt like going over to her, but he didn't.

"I'm fine," Hermione echoed, hugging Ginny back. "I'm so glad you came."

"Professor McGonagall asked and Mum said it was okay for a few hours," Ginny explained. "She knew you'd probably want some company."

"Yeah," Hermione said, wiping at her eyes. "I do."

"I hope it's okay that this is your present," Ginny said. "There wasn't money this year for real gifts."

"Don't worry about it," she said. She glanced over at Snape who was watching them and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Hermione knew that meant she couldn't tell Ginny about them or the prophecy. Her heart fell a little but she knew she had to make the most of her time there. After dinner, Hermione and Ginny stayed in the Great Hall picking at dessert and playing a game of exploding snap. Hermione wasn't any good at most wizarding games and lost several times in a row. Around ten, when both girls were in a holiday induced food coma, Mrs. Weasley arrived via floo to collect her only daughter.

"Hello," she said, hugging Hermione and handing her a box that contained her new Christmas jumper, with the H a bright white against a red knit.

"Happy Christmas," Hermione said. "Thanks for lending me Ginny."

Snape was standing a few feet away from them, watching.

"Are you sure we can't take her just for the night, Severus?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I am most certain," he said.

"Git," Ginny muttered as she and her mother stepped into the fireplace. Hermione frowned but Ginny and her mother were gone before anymore words were exchanged. With her friend gone, Hermione felt full and tired and no one noticed when Snape left with her to see her to her room.

"I didn't get you anything for Christmas," she said as they stood at the entrance to her room.

"I didn't get you anything either," he said. "So we're square."

"You aren't staying tonight, are you?"

"No, I can't tonight," he said.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"It seems likely," he said and touched her shoulder. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, professor," she said. In her room, she changed for bed feeling small and alone in the empty room. A tapping on the window sounded and she saw Hedwig on her window ledge waiting in the snow. She opened the window to the freezing night and let her in. It had been a long time since she'd heard from Harry and she felt relieved. Contact of any sort was good. She didn't have anything for Hedwig to eat but offered to let her stay in her room but the owl shook her head and stuck her leg out so Hermione could remove the small piece of parchment. She unrolled it and all it said, in Harry's sloppy writing, was _See you soon_. Hedwig didn't wait for a reply and Hermione watched her swoop not away from the castle but to the owlery. Hermione hoped it meant that Harry and Ron were both coming and within the next few days. She hadn't seen them for months.

She couldn't sleep that night but she wasn't sure if it was because she was excited or because she was alone.

Snape wasn't at breakfast and neither were her friends. She went down to the lab but it was empty and so she went to the library. Madame Pince had not stayed at the castle so Hermione had, literally, free reign of the library. As Head Girl she could go into the restricted section whenever she wanted but it was different knowing no one was watching her. There were few comfortable reading areas but in the far east corner of the restricted section, there was one over stuffed arm chair that looked like it belonged in the Ravenclaw common room. Luna had told her that they called the common room the 'think tank.' The chair was blue velvet with bronze stitching and this was where Hermione settled down for the day. She didn't bother to go to lunch mostly because she lost track of time. She was three-quarters of the way through a book on wizard marriage customs when she realized she wasn't alone. Snape was leaning against a shelf, watching with his arms folded.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," he said. "Learn anything?"

"Much."

"Such as?"

"Engagement rings are a wholly Muggle custom," she said.

"It has begun to be popular among the younger generations of wizards," he said. "Is that what you want? Something shiny to prove you belong to me?"

"Yes. It makes me shallow but I don't care," she said.

"I'll get you whatever you want," he said softly and this surprised her. Not know how to respond, she changed the subject. She pulled Harry's note from her pocket.

"Harry sent this," she said, letting him read it.

"He probably found another horcrux and needs help destroying it," Snape said.

"Maybe he's tired of traveling and wants to come home," she countered.

"You missed lunch," he said. "I had the elves keep your plate warm. It's in my office. Please come eat." She liked when he was thoughtful and so she went with him, taking the book on weddings with her. His office was dark and cold. His chairs for students and guests were not meant for comfort but she didn't complain. He watched her eat and then they went back into the lab. Over the next few days, they finished all the brewing until it was the last day of the year. It would be the first year since 12 Grimmauld Place became Order headquarters that she didn't attend the New Year's Eve party.

Her disappointment was sure to lift when Harry and Ron arrived.

She was in her room, taking her midday nap. Snape sometimes jointed her but hadn't this afternoon. When the knock came, she thought he'd changed his mind and she rushed out of bed so no one would see him standing in the hall. Unfortunately, all she wore were her knickers and her sweater from Mrs. Weasley that just covered her behind.

"Holy…" Ron said, staring at her, turning red.

"Oh!" she said, grabbing her robe and putting it on, tying the sash tightly. "You're here!"

"Yep," Harry said. "Um… who, exactly, were you expecting?"

"Oh, no one, I was sleeping, I guess I am still a little bleary," she lied. They stared at each other. "Come in," she said, stepping aside. It was strange seeing them now after all this time looking weary and over-traveled. She thought they would hug and it would go back to normal but now it was awkward.

"We've missed you," Ron said.

"Just let me-" she pointed to the bathroom. "I'll be right back." In the bathroom, she put on clothes and tried to chase the blush from her face with cold water. The boys were waiting for her, looking around interestedly. They'd never seen her room before and she was grateful Snape was careful never to leave things behind. "I want to hear everything," she promised them. "How long have you been here?"

"We've only just arrived," Harry said.

"You must be starving. Let's go to the kitchen," she suggested. Ron agreed immediately but Harry looked at her like he knew she was hiding something.

"I just want to rest for a while," Harry said. "McGonagall said the elves will bring us anything we want."

"Oh," Hermione said. "All right. See you at dinner, then?"

"We'll be in the room of requirement," Harry said.

"Bye," she said and watched them go down the hall, feeling like she'd done something wrong. Maybe they were angry she hadn't taken this journey with them. Maybe Harry _did_ know about her prophecy and if that were true, he didn't seem happy about it.

How many more things would go wrong?


	4. Chapter 4

New Years was a somber affair. The Hogwarts Express would arrive on the third of the month. There had been a big dinner the night before and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stayed up with butterbeers. Harry had said there wasn't news and Hermione didn't push. Snape had warned her that Harry had his own mission to focus on and she needed to let him go, in a sense.

"After all," he said, "you too have your own mission to worry about."

"But it's Harry," she'd said.

"People change, Hermione. It doesn't mean you lose them forever, but you can't hold them down, either."

She had to let her boys fly.

They left the day before the term started and it was the last night Snape would be spending in her room. She tried to saver the feeling by staying close, pushing against him and putting her fingers on the back of his neck where his hair was soft and fine and new. Snape didn't seem to mind that Hermione didn't want to, or wouldn't, have sex before she was married. If she wanted him to kiss her neck he would and if she wanted to kiss his lips she would but they slept heavily and comfortably through the night.

oooo

The train didn't come until the evening and so during the day, the castle was in a flurry with elves readying dormitories and professors preparing last minute lesson plans. Hermione tried to stay out from underfoot. It occurred to her that without Snape feeding information to the Order, they had no idea what Voldemort's next move was. He could show up at any point with Harry God-knows-where and the castle full of children. This term would be lived in constant apprehension and fear.

Snape sent for her from his office and she went down, happy to have something to do. He was working on something but stopped when she appeared.

"Hi," she said.

"I have something for you," he said and pulled a small box from his robe.

"Is that…?"

"Your engagement ring," he said. "You said you wanted one." She took the box and flipped the lid. Inside was a small gold band with a pearl. It was simple and lovely and mildly unorthodox. She took it out and held it in her palm.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"I do," she said. "I've never got anything like this before. May I wear it?"

"I might be offended if you don't," he chuckled but she suspected the laughter was to cover nerves.

"I mean, what will people say?" she asked. "What should I tell them?"

"Tell them to sod off," he said. "Put it on."

"All right!" she said. "Sheesh." She slipped it on and it was a decent fit, a little large but room to grow. It looked nice on her hand. "Thank you, Professor."

"Since we are meant to be married, you might call me by my given name," he offered.

"If I start now, it will be hard to stop," she said. "On graduation day, perhaps."

"There is something I need to talk to you about," he said. "Before the students return."

"Okay," she said, sitting down, worried by his tone.

"I believe that the attack on the castle will come before graduation."

"Well, shouldn't we evacuate the castle?"

"It will just prolong the inevitable and Minerva wants to carry on as usual," he said. "Do you understand why I'm telling you this?"

"We need to marry before graduation," she said slowly. "When?"

"Today."

"Right now? Why did you wait until the last minute?"

"I've only just received the latest Order update," he said. "Minerva and an auror will escort us to town and we can be joined in the city hall. I'm sorry it's like this, Hermione. You'll need your cloak." It hadn't hit her. She used the floo in his office to gather her things as not to waste time. When she got back, McGonagall and a large man she didn't know were waiting. There weren't introductions.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, for…" McGonagall paused. "Being so accommodating." Snape snorted and the auror had no expression.

"I do love him," Hermione said. "There are things even I wouldn't do for the good of society." Snape stared at her, mouth open and even McGonagall looked gobsmacked.

"Good," Snape said. She touched his hand.

"We've got to go. You aren't safe outside the castle grounds," McGonagall reminded them. Hermione flooed with the auror and her professors followed. They landed in what was obviously a government building.

Within 10 minutes, a spell was cast and a marriage license signed and she was Mrs. Snape.

"Merlin, I hope Sybil was right," McGonagall said, rushing them back to the floo. "We just broke about fourteen school rules."

"And a few laws," Snape added. Snape had the matching wedding bands already as well and all Hermione could do was think about how heavy her hand felt now.

oooo

Hermione put on her school uniform so she could go back to being a student. She'd had a free pass for the holiday but now that was over. No one had told her what to say or do about the marriage. She wouldn't announce it, obviously, but could she lie? Was she still Miss Granger? Was she Mrs. Snape? Could she be both?

When the train arrived, she waited in the front hall with the professors for the students and when they began to spill in, she tried to blend. At least there was no sorting. When she saw Ginny and Luna, she waved with her right hand. Inside, they sat down ad she mostly listened while Neville complained about his grandmother with her hands in her lap.

"What's wrong?" Ginny whispered.

"I'll tell you later," she said. "Just eat." Dinner moved slowly. Hermione looked up at Snape often and once saw the simple gold band on his left hand catch the light. There he was – her husband.

"You know what? All the people are sort of overwhelming me. I think I'll go lie down," Hermione said, standing.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Ginny asked with her mouth full.

"No, No. I'll just see you later," she said. She fled the great hall desperate for the silence of her bedroom. Soon, Snape came, arriving through the fireplace.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong? I just got married! I haven't even told my parents," she said, paling. "Oh heaven."

"Just sit down," he said. "Take a breath." She plopped on the bed and he put his arm around her, coaxing her head onto his shoulder. She felt herself begin to relax.

"My friends don't even know me anymore," she whispered.

"I know you," he said. She wasn't sure this was true but she was grateful he said it. He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Will you be all right, Mrs. Snape?"

"May I tell Ginny?" she asked.

"If you wish," he said. "Minerva left all decisions up to us regarding public knowledge of our marriage."

"Really?"

"Though in the rush I forgot to inform you that I am no longer your professor. You will be taking private lessons from Madame Pomfrey for the rest of the year." He shrugged at her questioning glance. "It is a conflict of interests. Not that I am one to play favorites."

"I understand. I'll hardly ever see you, though."

"You are always welcome in my chambers in your free time. The wards have been modified to recognize you."

"Can I sleep there?"

"Hmm," he mused. "Perhaps on weekends when neither of us are on duty but we'll keep that detail from Minerva." He kissed her again. "I've got to go."

She didn't want him to leave, but she held her tongue.

oooo

Hermione was drafting a letter to her parents when Ginny came to visit.

"Are you feeling better?" Ginny asked.

"Ginny, you saw Harry during the hols, right?"

"Yes," Ginny said dreamily.

"He tells you everything, right?"

"I think so," Ginny said. "Why?"

"Did he tell you anything about me?" she asked. "About… my place in the war?"

"He understands you had to stay and sit your N.E.W.T.s, so if you're worried…"

"I meant in the grand scheme of things," she corrected.

"Oh, I don't think so," Ginny said. "What is this all about?"

"I got married," Hermione said, holding out her hand. "Today."

Ginny burst into laughter but it faltered and faded as Hermione's expression failed to change.

"WHAT?"

"To Professor Snape."

Ginny stared at her.

"Good Merlin, Hermione, Ron was right. You are barking mad."

"Well thank you for your support."

"Support? How could I support that? He murdered Dumbledore!"

"His name was cleared!" Hermione reminded her haughtily.

"He still did it," Ginny said, angry now. "How could you?"

"There's a prophecy," Hermione said. "From years ago. Harry is going to kill Voldemort but I'm supposed to save the castle."

"You're joking," Ginny said. "Another prophecy?"

"I'm still a student, I wouldn't have done this if it wasn't important."

"So you wouldn't have married him?" Ginny asked, looking like she was ready for a wave of relief.

"So soon," Hermione amended.

"Do you love him?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded.

"Please don't tell anybody. I'm not safe, Ginny. Voldemort knows about the prophecy, he knows about me."

"I won't," Ginny promised. Hermione believed her but the friendship had been damaged. Weasleys were not notoriously understanding or forgiving. When Ginny left, Hermione had never felt so alone.

oooo

School was almost the same. She went to her classes and instead of potions, she went to the infirmary for her independent study which was really just Snape's lesson plans with an easier grader. A few people asked about her rings – she told them they were a Christmas gift and it was a family custom to wear them. She wasn't sure the story was bought but no one pushed it. Snape wore a glove during class so the metal wouldn't react to the potions and everyone was to afraid to ask him questions anyway.

A feel of unrest plagued the castle. The staff was waiting for the worst and the students picked up on their apprehension. It was three weeks before Hermione and Snape both had a Saturday night off from duties. She'd been to his rooms a few times since the wedding and he'd made space for her, helped her to feel welcome. Hermione, once finished with her homework, let herself into his rooms. She could hear the shower running and so she sat down her bag and curled up on the leather sofa with a fleece blanket and watched the fire burn. No one would miss her tonight. She and all her friends had drifted. Being Mrs. Snape had begun to keep her sane, at least. The water shut off in the other room. A few moments later, he stuck his head out.

"Hi," he said. His hair was dripping and he had only a black towel around his waist. He still made her blush.

"Hello," she said. He got dressed and came back out to sit next to her, lifting her feet so there was room for him and placing them back on his lap. "How were your classes?"

"Hmph," he said, running his hand up and down her calf under the blanket. "Yours?"

"Rather dull," she said. They were both sort of in dreary, quiet moods. He watched her twist her rings around on her finger.

"Do you regret marrying me?" he asked.

"How could I? I don't really even feel married."

"I see," he said. "I think we could probably fix that."

"How?" Hermione asked. Snape smirked and walked into the bedroom. It was obvious she was suppose to follow, so she did.

She laid down on the bed and he sat next to her, touching her cheek softly.

"You're very pretty, Mrs. Snape," he said. She closed her eyes. "Are you afraid?"

"No," she said. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, letting his fingers undo her red and gold tie. She heard the sound of the silk against her cotton shirt as he pulled it from her collar. The fingers began to undo her buttons as his tongue slid in her mouth. The truth was that she wasn't scared but she was nervous. She could do nothing but lay still, letting him remove her clothing piece by piece. Her tie, her shirt, her shoes. He peeled her knee socks down, leaving a wet trail of kisses along the way. The skirt went next until she was only in her white bra and matching panties.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She was.

oooo

She woke up early, two hours before the first morning bell rang. The only thing she had on were her wedding rings and she could see her school uniform in pieces all over the room. Her skirt was on the floor and her tie had ended up across the headboard. Snape was snoring lightly with his leg heavy across her hips. She was still tired, her eyes unwilling to fully open, but she needed to be in her own room before everyone began to wake up. She pushed his leg off of her and stood in the cold room, gathering her clothes. Her knickers were not to be found so she put on everything else.

"You're just going to sneak out?" His drowsy voice caught her by surprise.

"It's early, I wanted to let you sleep," she explained.

"Don't go," he said. "Come back to bed."

"No," she said, perching on the bed next to him. She leaned down and kissed him. "Thanks for the good time, Mr. Snape."

"My pleasure. See you later."

She went back to sleep and woke again with the bells. She took a bath and looked down at her body which was bright red from the hot water. They hadn't used any sort of contraception. Snape had said that they were married and it sounded good at the time, but she couldn't help but feel rushed. She had read in her marriage book from the library that when a witch got pregnant, her power doubled, sometimes tripled. The body did everything it could to protect the fetus. She did want children, someday, but she really thought she would have graduated by the time all this happened. She was only eighteen.


	5. Chapter 5

Spring came and she was three months along. She thought she would at least be able to graduate before she began to show and Snape seemed pleased and worried at the same time. She'd gotten the news from Madame Pomfrey who'd told McGonagall in a tizzy.

"It's all right," she'd told the mediwitch, placing a firm hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Miss Granger has actually been Mrs. Snape for some time now. It's the reason you've been giving her his lessons."

"A student and a teacher, Minerva?" Pomfrey said, aghast. "You condone this?"

"I do," she said. "Poppy, I need a moment alone with our head girl." When Pomfrey was gone, McGonagall turned to Hermione with crossed arms.

"Pregnant?"

"Er, I'm sorry."

"I feel like I've been quite understanding," McGonagall started.

"Understanding?" Hermione yelped. "This was never my idea! You pushed me into an early marriage and besides, I'll be much stronger when the battle comes."

"Is that worth risking two lives?" McGonagall asked.

"Do I have a choice?" she countered. But McGonagall was looking past her out the window. Hermione turned. Harry was walking across the lawn toward the castle. "Oh no," Hermione breathed.

It was time.

oooo

Hermione helped the younger kids through the tunnels to Hogsmeade and all the prefects were meant to stay until everyone else was out. Dumbledore's Army, having proven themselves worthy in the last castle attack was allowed to stay for now – until the aurors could arrive. The sky had turned an ominous gray – not like a normal spring storm. Harry and Ron were out on the grounds, watching the skies, waiting. Hermione had attempted to follow but Snape's hand was like steel on her shoulder.

"This is not your fight," he hissed.

"Like hell," she yelled.

"You will stay here with the other students and leave the castle only if the first line falls," he ordered.

"Severus, you cannot expect me to sit here why you go out and get yourself killed!"

The several students who were in the room – including Neville, Ginny, and Luna watched with equal parts interest and fear. No one had ever used Snape's first name to his face and yet there were talking to each other like—

"You will stay. Pregnancy makes your more powerful, not invincible."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Dean Thomas said, unable to hide his curiosity any longer.

"We're married, butt out," she snarled at him. "What happens if you get hurt?" she said to Snape, but his reply was cut when the lights went out.

"_Lumos_." Someone's wand lit and Snape looked down at his wife.

"The Dark Mark is calling me outside. You must stay," Snape said. She nodded, her mouth a thin line. He gave her a brief hug and left the army alone in the most warded place of the castle – the headmaster's office. All the portraits were empty frames except for sleeping Dumbledore. Everyone stared at Hermione.

"So, I'm married," she said, shrugging.

"And pregnant, apparently," Ginny accused.

"Three months," Hermione confirmed. "I just found out." Neville stared at her with horror written clearly across his long face.

"P-p-professor Snape?" he whispered.

"Look, you can all judge me if we live through this but right now we are not staying here," she said.

"But, Snape said," Luna started. There were about fifteen sixth and seventh years in the room but it was obvious Hermione was in charge.

"We aren't just going to sit here and wait to die," she said. "Let's go. Stick together, it's dark and who ever is outside will be trying to get in here."

"I have the map," Ginny offered, pulling out the blank parchment.

"Good, make sure no one finds us moving," she said.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she whispered, tapping her wand. "Where are we going?"

"The dungeon," she said.

"It's clear, there are only guards at the doors," Ginny said.

They moved swiftly and silently through the castle until they arrived at the lab. There was a lone cauldron swimming with a bright red liquid inside.

"It's for protection," she said.

"Like Felix Felicis?" someone asked, they were in the back and Hermione couldn't see but it sounded like one of the Patil twins.

"No," she said. "It won't… it will heighten your existing skills."

She passed the ladle around and everyone took a mouthful. She could see by their expressions that it wasn't very tasty but she consumed her portion without complaint.

"What now?" Ginny asked.

"We fight," Hermione said. "We need to find a way out of the castle." She wished the passage from the dungeon was not one way. The first hit to the castle came then. They were all so deep in the castle that it felt like the whole structure shuddered. Damaging Hogwarts was like hurting a living creature and Hermione felt the pain.

"We need to get above ground," Neville said. "We'll be crushed." They moved in the dark as the attacks continued. They could see wards falling and felt the magic failing. By the time they emerged into the great hall through a kitchen passage, the charm on the ceiling had failed and one of the walls had been blasted away, showing the landscape like a picture window.

Hermione heard herself gasp. The spells flew through the air and people lay face down in the grass and dust, and in the distance at the edge of the forest, she could see Harry fighting off Death Eaters while Voldemort watched nearby, waiting.

They all started flinging hexes and curses through the air and Hermione crouched behind an overturned table, trying to cast without being seen.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and braced herself for the worst.

"You nit-wit!" It was Snape, seething mad at the sight of her.

"The potion is helping. Our aim is impeccable and we ran without tiring."

"We need to get out of here," he said.

"You want to run?" she said, accusingly.

"The Headmaster's office is the heart of the castle. If that is ruined, there won't be anything left to rebuild! I wanted you to guard it for a reason," he said, pulling her to her feet and navigating them around the fallen stone.

When they got to the office, he locked them in and warded the door. They both knew it wasn't enough. They could already hear voices shouting down the hall.

"Hold my hands," he said, the angry bark in his voice replaced by fear. She grabbed his hands and she felt the warmth of magic flowing through them. He was combining their power, using it to keep the room safe. The voices died away a little but it was hard to keep it up and she felt herself growing tired.

She heard the people just outside again and saw a beat of sweat roll down Snape's temple. She knew if he couldn't keep it up, she had no chance. Her hands were moist and when the door flung open to the office, Snape let her hands go. She thought about the small ball of life deep inside her and knew it was too soon to give it up. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she felt her heart open. Magic flooded from the tips of her fingers, her wand forgotten on the floor.

When she could see again, everyone around her had slumped to the carpet. Severus as well as the masked Death Eaters were out cold. She stumbled to the window and saw that all the fighting on the field had ceased – except for two figures remained upright. Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter. Hermione had unknowingly given Harry the upper hand he needed. She closed her eyes, desperate for rest.

oooo

Hermione woke up in a bed, feeling overheated and weighed down by heavy bed linens. She tried to move, kicking her feet slightly. She felt weak and achy and she wasn't in her bed, or Snape's, or the infirmary. The room was dark, lit by only one candle and she felt like she'd been asleep for a long time. Her mouth tasted like ashes.

She pushed back the blankets carefully and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her stomach was more rounded now, and it was hard to the touch. Her feet were bare but she just crossed her arms across her flannel nightgown and opened the door to a dim hallway. There were no pictures, no outward sign of her location. There was a narrow staircase and she took one step at a time. She followed a light source to what looked like a kitchen.

Minerva McGonagall sat at the table in the kitchen reading the _Daily Prophet_, the paper blocking Hermione's arrival. Hermione's sharp intake of breath made her lower the paper. The date on the newspaper was nearly a month passed what Hermione remembered it to be.

"Good stars, Hermione," McGonagall stood and grabbed the girl, hugging her tightly. "You're awake!"

"Where are we?" she asked, hoarsely. McGonagall got her a glass of water quickly.

"My home near Aberdeen. You were brought here to recuperate," McGonagall explained. "Sit down and tell me what you remember."

Hermione sat and, ignoring her professor, pulled the _Prophet_ to her.

"The war is over?" she asked.

"Yes. Mr. Potter was successful in defeating Voldemort."

"Thank the lord," Hermione said. "I remember… they were fighting. I saw them through the window."

"You protected Hogwarts admirably," McGonagall said.

"Where is my husband?" Hermione asked.

"Severus is just fine, don't you worry. He's been here every day to see you," McGonagall promised.

"What… the date on the paper says..."

"Your spell was very powerful white magic, Mrs. Snape. Your body needed time to rest." Hermione touched her stomach.

"The baby is all right?"

"Yes, dear," she assured Hermione. "I know it's late, but I need to alert Poppy that you finally woke up," she said. "Severus will want to know too, he'll probably come right away."

"Oh," she said. "I need… a bath. I don't want to see him looking like this."

McGonagall chuckled, understandingly.

"All right. Go upstairs. I'll floo Poppy and come up to help you." Like a kind nurse or a grandmother, McGonagall helped Hermione bathe and lent her a robe to wear that couldn't fully conceal the slight swell in her tummy. By the time she came downstairs, she was fatigued again and Pomfrey was waiting for her. The mediwitch had cool hands against her pulse points and a benign smile.

"I want to see Severus," she mumbled, letting her eyes close.

"He's coming," McGonagall said.

"Open your eyes, Mrs. Snape, you need to stay awake," Pomfrey said, smacking the back of her hand lightly. "You need to eat a good meal."

"Okay," she said, but she felt a little overwhelmed. She closed her eyes again for what felt like just a moment but when she opened them again, there was a tray of food being set down in front of her and Snape was there, looking at her with a glimmer of relief in her eyes.

"Hello," he said.

"Oh!" she said, reaching out her arms. He pulled her up into his arms, hugging her fiercely.

"Don't you ever do that again," he whispered. "I was quite worried."

"I don't even know what I did," she whispered, here words partially muffled by being pressed against him.

"Don't know?" he said. "Hermione, you saved the castle."

"Saved it?" she said. "If I recall, we were short a few walls, and that was before we ran upstairs."

"We're lucky it's not just a pile of stone," he said. "We'll talk about it later. You need to eat your meal. The nourishment spell wore off as soon as you woke up and you're eating for two." He made her sit down and watched her eat as much as she could. McGonagall and Pomfrey stayed in the other room to give them space.

"I want to take you home," he said, when she finished.

"I thought the castle…"

"No, to Spinner's End, until you're ready to go back to the castle," he said. "I suppose it's our home now."

"I want to see Harry," she said. He rolled his eyes.

"Of course."

"I also… it is safe to go home now, right?" she asked. "To see my parents?"

"Oh," he said. "Yes. I took the liberty of informing them of your… illness and subsequent recovery period."

"You what?" she exclaimed. "What exactly did you tell them?"

"That there was an accident at the castle but you were expected to make a full recovery. Potter delivered my letter himself. What he told them, I'm not exactly sure," Snape admitted.

"I need to see them," Hermione said. "Can we go now?"

"When you get cleared by Poppy," he said. At the sound of her name, the mediwitch bustled in with a bag that clinked loudly like it was full of potions.

"All right Mrs. Snape, we have a few things to go over. I don't want you over exerting yourself. I want to see you once a month for your prenatal care. I have vitamins for you that you need to take daily." Hermione nodded, listening though her mind wandered. She hadn't seen her parents since September and she had no idea what she was going to say.

oooo

Hermione found that all her belongs had already been transported to Spinner's End. Snape had unpacked for her – her clothes hung in the closet next to his like they'd always been together. It was just after dawn when they arrived at the dreary home. Hermione wanted to go immediately but she could tell Snape was tired. When he wanted her to lie down next to him, she didn't complain. But she wasn't sure if he really slept. He didn't let her go, rubbing his nose into her hair and holding on tight.

Finally she couldn't stand it. She got up, and took off the borrowed robes. She put on fresh underwear and a clean bra after finding them in the top drawer. She noticed they fit slightly more snuggly than she was used to. She pulled on a pair of jeans and heard Snape snicker as he watched her struggle to button them.

"You'll need new things," he said.

"Apparently," she said, taking them off, and exchanging them for an elastic waist skirt.

"I think you look lovely," he said.

"I feel very confused," she admitted.

"You said yourself that the baby would make you more powerful. That's what it did. You leveled the playing field for your friend."

"I can't take credit for Harry's success," she said.

"I suppose not, but you can take credit for your part," he said.

"I have some questions, but I'm afraid to ask." She buttoned her blouse and sat on the edge of the bed. "Is Ron alive?"

"Yes."

"Ginny?" she asked.

"All the Weasleys are accounted for, as well as Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, and all the other students of Hogwarts. You may not have taken my direction, but they did and fled the castle as soon as we went upstairs."

"It seems too good to be true," she whispered.

"There were losses, but…" He lifted his sleeve and showed her the patch of clean, white skin on his arm where the dark mark used to be.

"It's gone," she said, touching his arm lightly.

"It was gone when I woke up," he said.

"What happened then? What did you see?" she asked.

"Everyone started coming around," he admitted. "Except you. I picked you up and brought you through the tunnel to town where I left you with Minerva and when I got you back to the castle, all the Death Eaters were gone and the Dark Lord was…"

"Dead," she supplied. "Where was Harry?"

"He was there, but he wouldn't say a word, other than he had found the last horcrux and destroyed it and killed the dark lord with the killing curse."

"What was the last horcrux?" she asked.

"I don't know. Only Potter knows," Snape said. "There is time to sort out the details later. Why don't you finish getting ready and we'll go see your parents?"

"All right."

"Hermione," he grabbed her arm. "I know if feels like you just saw me yesterday but I spent a month without you." He shook his head. "And it was…"

"Oh," she said, and kissed him. "I'm sorry."

"Go," he said.

She brushed her teeth and put on her knee socks and shoes and her light, muggle jacket and when she was ready, he was too. She couldn't apparate while pregnant so they floo'ed to Diagon Alley and took the underground. They walked three blocks to Hermione's childhood home.

"They don't know about the wedding or the baby, do they?"

"No."

"I see. Well, I apologize in advance for what happens."

"I accept your apology," he chuckled. She thought he wouldn't be laughing for very long but she held her tongue and rang the doorbell. When no on answered, she turned to Snape.

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"My parents are at work." She lifted the edge of the welcome mat and got the spare key. The door opened easily and they stepped inside. "It will be a few hours, at least. I'll make you some breakfast." He hung their coats on the coat rack near the door and looked around curiously. There were sill photographs everyone – some of strangers, some of Hermione at various ages. There was one of her in her first school uniform – before the prophecy and before becoming Potter's friend. He reached out a spindly finger and touched the metal fame.

"Severus?" she said, pulling his attention from the picture. "Are you hungry?"

"Hmm? Oh yes," he said. He followed her, stooping through the doorway even though it was plenty tall enough for him to fit through. The kitchen was narrow but scrubbed clean and smelled faintly of lemon. He sat at the small table there while she opened the icebox and got out the eggs and some thick bacon. "Do you need help?" he asked, but she didn't. "Don't push yourself too hard," he warned.

"I've never felt healthier," she said. He watched her bring the food to life over an open flame and grill. The meal came together quickly and she plated it with a piece of toast and a glass of juice.

"Pumpkin?" he asked.

"Orange," she corrected. It wasn't too popular in wizard homes but his father had given it to him as a child. They ate quietly and she took her vitamins and cleaned the dishes without magic, drying them with a green towel and putting them in their proper places. She looked comfortable there, in her once home and he hoped they would share a comfortable space one day.

"Mom will come home for lunch," she said. "Around noon."

"Ah," he said. "Not so long, then."

"Why don't you lie down for a while?" she said. "I hardly let you sleep." It sounded tempting. She showed him the guest room – all pale blues and clean whites and he took off his shoes. The sheets were clean and he fell asleep knowing she was just down the hall.

Alone, Hermione let herself into her father's dark study that smelled of pipe smoke. There was a new phone, black and cordless. She rarely made phone calls anymore but she remembered the dentist office number without looking it up. The receptionist answered.

"May I speak with… well, this is Hermione," she said.

"Did you want to make an appointment?"

"No, Hermione _Granger_, I'd like to speak to my mother."

"OH!" the receptionist said. "She's with a patient."

"It's a family emergency," Hermione said, keeping her voice low.

"Hold, please." Tinny music flooded her ear. Hermione didn't know what she would say. She heard the line pick up.

"Hermione?" the voice belonged to her father and he sounded worried.

"Hi daddy," she said.

"Your school told us you were sick!" he exclaimed.

"I'm better, now," she said. "I'm at home."

"At the house?" he exclaimed. "Don't leave! We'll be right there." She stared at the phone for a second and hung it up. They were coming and she was married and pregnant and an unorthodox war hero. Unable to sit still, she went to the living room and turned on the BBC low, not even bothering to change the channel. She hardly paid attention. What seemed like forever passed before she heard the car pull up outside. She turned off the telly and couldn't decide whether to sit or stand. Her parents came in, still wearing their white lab coats.

"Oh my God," her mother said, rushing over to Hermione and grabbing her into a fiercely maternal hug. Her father was next and he didn't crack any ribs but it was serious hugging.

"Hi," she said. "I'm fine, it's okay."

"It's not okay, you were in a coma!" her father said.

"I was just sleeping, just resting," she said.

"Resting?" her mother asked. "For a month?"

"It's over now anyway," she said, fighting the urge to cross her arms. It called attention to her rounded stomach. She had to let her robes hang free. She was walking the line between looking like she'd put on a few pounds and looking pregnant.

"Let's sit down, have some tea," her mother said.

"Caffeine free, please," she said, sitting down. Her father looked at her strangely.

"So they let you leave school early?" her mother asked.

"Um," Hermione didn't know where to start. "School has been postponed for a while."

"When will graduation happen?" her dad asked.

"I'm not sure. I came here to talk to you guys about something serious."

"Your illness?" her mother guessed.

"No. I need you to let me finish."

"Of course," her mother said.

"The castle… my school, I mean, was damaged. There was a fight there. You know my friend Harry, right? I explained to you how he was famous."

"Black magic," her dad said, somberly.

"Er, right, well, Harry won. It's safe now, for me to go back to school when the time comes."

"It wasn't safe before?" her father asked. "I thought that's why you couldn't come home in the first place."

"It's safe for me to go anywhere, I mean," she said, frustrated. She wanted to be completely honest but they could never really understand.

"You're home now, that's what matters," her mother said.

"There is something else," she said, wringing her hands.

She could see her parents growing impatient.

"Go on," her mother said.

"Remember the letter you got from my professor about me being ill? He isn't my professor… not anymore."

"Just spit it out," her father said, his voice rising.

"I got married." Her parents started at her. She pulled her hand from her lap and showed them her rings. Her mother began to cry.

"To Harry?" she wailed.

"No," she whispered. "To Severus Snape."

"YOUR TEACHER?" her father roared.

"We're happy and I love him," she said.

"He's your teacher," her father repeated. "What kind of school…"

"It would have happened eventually," she said. "He's upstairs. I'll get him and we can work this out." She took the stairs carefully, quietly but Snape was sitting up in bed listening.

"Going well?" he asked.

"Help me," she said. "Please." He nodded and went downstairs.

"I'm Severus Snape," he said, bowing his head slightly. Their parents stared – her mother was shocked out of her tears.

"You…" her dad said.

"I love my wife very much, sir," he said. "I will give her anything she needs or desires. I will never keep her from you and I assure you our child will be loved and celebrated."

Hermione closed her eyes.

"CHILD?" her father roared.

"Hadn't gotten there yet," Hermione whispered.

"You're pregnant?" her mother asked.

"She helped save many lives," Snape interjected. "Your daughter, Madame, his a hero."

"I need to sit down," Her mother said, and sunk back into her chair. Hermione shrugged, at a loss.

"Who wants tea?" she asked.


	6. Chapter 6

As the sun set, Snape walked his wife back to the underground station. Both were silent and exhausted from hours of conversation. Her parents did not understand but still loved her and it would have to be enough.

Back at Spinner's End, they slept hard.

In the morning, Hermione woke up late to the sound of a quill against parchment.

"Severus, what is it?" she asked.

"A letter from McGonagall," he said. "She requests that we return to the castle."

"Already?" she asked.

"There is much to do. The charm on the ceiling in the great hall has failed and Minerva things you're the one to reinstate it."

"That magic is a thousand years old!" she exclaimed.

"Can you be ready to go after breakfast?" he asked, ignoring her outburst.

"Sure," she said, used to his lack of excitement. She got in the shower, wondering what the next few months would bring. She was washing the conditioner out of her hair when the curtain was pulled back and her husband stepped in.

"Well hello," she said, unwilling to give up the stream of hot water.

"Look at you," he said, placing his hand against her protruding stomach.

"You're just trying to charm me into giving you the shower," she said.

"Maybe," he said, pulling her against him so they could share the water. He kissed her neck and when her hair was wet, it was long and straight and felt like silk between his fingers.

oooo

The castle walls had been repaired but it was the magic that needed help. The wards, the enchantments were all damaged. Staircases had ceased movement between floors, connecting only to air. Suits of armor were forever stilled and the ceiling in the great hall was nothing but rafters.

McGonagall looked tired at grateful for the help.

"The Ministry is all over me to get the children back to finish out the year. Exams need to be sat!" she said.

"Don't let the Ministry pressure you," Snape said. "The castle is not ready for children and if the exams need to be sat, they can be sat at the Ministry."

"I don't know how Albus did this," she said.

"One step at a time," Hermione said. "We're here to help, Professor McGonagall." Truthfully, Hermione felt daunted by the task ahead. Pomfrey kept a close eye on her. She had slept through her morning sickness but now she was tired and sore as her body stretched and grew.

McGonagall took the advice of Snape and organized exams at the Ministry – exams that went up to their last class so they could just end the school year as quickly as possible. Hermione was nervous about going not because of the tests (she felt oddly confident about that), but because she would see everyone in her year. She would see Harry Potter.

The day came a few weeks later. The rehabilitation of the castle was slow going and Hermione was happy to leave it for a while. She was allowed to travel to London alone after much negotiating with her husband. She flooed most of the way. She'd been letting out her robes with a needle and thread so she hoped to buy new robes while she was in London, if there was time. But to travel, she wore a Muggle maternity dress her mother had sent with a spring coat over it. It failed to hide her condition.

She stepped into the phone booth outside the ministry wondering if she was the first to arrive.

"Name," the disembodied voice demanded.

"Hermione Snape," she said. "I'm here to sit my exams." A badge spilled out and the elevator began to descend. She clipped the badge to her robe. It read: _Hermione Snape. Hogwarts. N.E.W.T.s_. She guessed her cat was about to be out of the bag. There was no hiding her pregnancy anyway. In four months, she'd have a baby.

She had her wand checked and was directed to a large room several floors down. There were a few people in there, including Luna Lovegood. Hermione went and sat down next to her.

"Hermione!"

"Hi, Luna," she said.

"Wow, you're very… different."

"Yeah, a lot has changed," she said. Luna smiled dreamily at her.

"I heard our tests are very abbreviated. That it will only be a few hours for the entire thing."

"What?" Hermione was shocked.

"My father thinks we've been through enough without having to worry about exams." she said. "Oh look, there's Harry, Ron, and Ginny." Hermione heard the door open behind her and she turned nervously. They looked the same and she was flooded with relief and gratitude.

"There she is," she heard Ron say. She stood up and met them in the middle of the staircase of the large auditorium. She hugged them, held them close, and Harry felt strong and confident. He had new glasses, square frames. He'd outgrown the old pair completely.

"Good Merlin," Ron said, stepping back.

"Yes, about that…" she said.

"We heard," Harry said. "It was weird at first, you marrying him, but we love you no matter what." He sounded slightly rehearsed but she let it slide. "You helped save my life, after all. Thank you."

Hermione smiled, tears welling in her eyes.

"Aye," Ron said. "Hormones."

Their reunion was cut short. The room was filling and soon a ministry official entered.

After the test, Hermione was supposed to go straight back to the castle but the boys convinced her to go back to 12 Grimmauld place to catch up. She knew Snape would worry but Harry let her use Hedwig to send him a note. The boys even flooed with her back because she couldn't apparate. She watched Hedwig soar away and accepted a glass of water from Harry.

"Severus didn't tell me very many details," she said. "About what happened on that day."

"Join the club," Ron muttered.

"Let's talk about happy things," Harry said, quickly. "When are you due?"

"Late August, maybe September," she said. "I'm completely unprepared."

"Harry, tell her about the offer," Ron said.

"McGonagall mentioned that you were applying for auror training," Hermione said.

"Pfft, not that!" Ron said.

"I got an offer to audition for the Quidditch league," he said. "I don't know if I'm going to go."

"You should," Hermione said. She saw the surprise on Harry's features.

"You think so?" he asked.

"You've done more than your fair share of battling evil… become an auror when you get too old to play," she said.

"See? I told you, mate," Ron said, looking smug. "Even Hermione agrees."

"All right, I'll try out," Harry said. "It's not for a few weeks anyhow."

Time flew by as the friends talked and got reacquainted after so much time apart. Soon a school barn owl tapped at the window.

"Oh, that will be Severus. It is late," Hermione said, as Harry let the owl in. The owl flew to her and dropped the note in her lap. "No reply," she told it.

"A little demanding," Ron grumbled. Hermione's eyes scanned the note.

"What does it say?" Harry asked.

"It's not from Severus," she said. "It's from Professor McGonagall."

"What?" Ron asked.

"All it says is 'Mrs. Norris has died.'"

"She sent you a not about Filch's bloody cat?" Harry asked.

"It's about my prophecy," Hermione explained. "It means that McGonagall isn't going to die as a result of the war." Harry and Ron stared at her. "I have to go. Come visit me at Hogwarts any time," she said, rushing into the fireplace. "Hogwarts!" she cried, leaving the confused boys behind.

She came into the fireplace in the great hall. Immediately, she could hear Filch's wailing sobs and McGonagall trying her best to sooth him.

"Now, Argus, Mrs. Norris was over 30-years-old! Every creature has their time," she said. Snape was standing nearby with his arms crossed, looking bored. Upon seeing Hermione, his face softened slightly.

"What happened?" she whispered.

"The cat was skulking around in the charms classroom. Got crushed by a pile of books," he said.

"It wasn't Flitwick…?" Hermione asked.

"No, he wasn't around. No one quite knows what happened," Snape said. "Filch has been blubbering for an hour straight."

"He lost his best friend," Hermione said. "Though I must say I am relieved Professor McGonagall is all right."

"Indeed," he agreed. Hermione walked up to Filch and gave him a sympathetic and consoling look.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Filch," she said.

"T-thank y-you, Missus Snape," he sniffed, and then dissolved once more, pushing his stubbled face into his dirty sleeves. Snape led his wife away, leaving McGonagall to deal with her bereft employee.

oooo

In her third trimester, Hermione was no longer able to travel magically. Everything she really needed was in the castle – though her mother was unhappy about missing the birth. Most of the spells on the castle had been recast and the castle was going to be ready to open in the fall. Hermione had passed her N.E.W.T.s with flying colors, of course, as had most everyone, especially Dumbledore's Army. The only thing that remained unchanged was the charmed ceiling in the great hall. She'd spent weeks in the library, looking for any written history of the charm but the magic was so old, she didn't find anything. _Hogwarts, A History_ mentioned that all four founders had a hand in the casting but this information only served to discourage Hermione.

Every day she grew a little bigger. Snape took her to Hogsmeade for proper maternity robes. With each day, her power grew. For easy spells, she didn't even need to use a wand. Snape liked to put his ear against her swollen belly and listen to the life inside. It had taken a while for the story to break with the war and the reconstruction of the castle, but one morning, about a week after their trip to Hogsmeade, the _Daily Prophet_ ran a picture of the two of them exiting the robe shop with the headline 'Scandal at HOGWARTS!' The story was about the wedding and the pregnancy – with the spin of it all being an illicit affair and no mention of the prophecy, of course.

"Ignore it," Hermione said, but Snape sulked for days.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione knew, in regards to the ceiling charm, that she was missing a great resource. It was summer now, and she was always hot and uncomfortable. Still, she took a blanket out and sat on it near Dumbledore's grave.

"I need your help," she told the white stone. "I've been trying but I don't even know where to begin. I've searched text after text looking for a mention of the charm. I've researched charm theory, potions, similar spells, but… I don't know why McGonagall thought I could do this." She sighed, and gazed across the sparkling lake where the water lapped lazily at the shore. "We got a letter today," she said. "I'm being honored for my contribution to the war. Order of Merlin, first class. At the beginning of August." She laughed. "I'll be as big as a house by then."

She rested her hand on her belly, feeling the movement inside. "No one has told me the sex of the baby, but I'm certain it's a boy." She'd begun to sweat in the sunshine and knew it was almost lunch anyway.

"If you could wake up, your portrait I mean, I would really appreciate it," she said. "See you later, sir."

Inside the castle was dark, and her eyes burned from sunlight exposure. Snape was in London for the day, so she ate lunch and holed herself up in the library. Even if it was an impossible task, she wouldn't stop trying.

oooo

She'd spoken to the other portraits of course. The other headmasters who hung in the circular office and even the portraits around the castle. She talked to the fat lady and the portraits that hung along the main staircases and even in the ones in the library – old ladies with stern looking glasses who would only whisper to her.

"How come no one bothered to make living portraits of the founders themselves?" she asked Snape one night in bed.

"I don't know," he said. "That's a good question."

"Something Dumbledore would surely know the answer to if the old man would only wake up," Hermione grumbled, rapidly losing her patience with her former headmaster's painting.

"Maybe there is?" Snape said. "Some place you haven't looked."

"I've waddled over every inch of this castle – they aren't here," she whined.

"Maybe they're somewhere else," he yawned. "Go to sleep." He extinguished the lights but she lay away a long time after his breathing became deep and even. She felt the baby moving restlessly within her and she felt the same – impatient. For exactly what, she wasn't sure. For the baby to come? For her puzzle to be solved? For her life as Mrs. Snape to finally begin? Maybe all of it.

They'd decided to call the baby Elizabeth if it was a girl, which she highly doubted it was, and Brian if it was a boy, after Dumbledore. She'd been saddled with Hermione her whole life and she wanted her child to have something a little easier.

"I will never call her Lizzy," Snape warned.

"I doubt that will be a problem," Hermione said. Nicknames weren't her style anyway. She preferred precision as did he.

She fell into a restless sleep and dreamed of herself trapped inside a portrait frame, unable to get to her crying son on the other side.

oooo

"What happens when school starts?" she asked, in the early part of July.

"What do you mean?" he asked, crossly. They were in his lab and he was filling out order forms for the new year.

"Am I to live in the castle?"

"Of course, you're my spouse," he said.

"What if I want a job or to go to university?" she asked.

"You're going to have a newborn, Hermione. Those things are at least a year away," he sighed. He hated forms.

"Severus."

"You will go to university and you will get a job and all your academic dreams will be fulfilled but you are eighteen and eight months pregnant. You cannot rush things," he said, softly.

"It's just… this isn't exactly what I'd been planning for," she whispered.

"I see," he said, setting down his quill.

"I didn't mean! I'm happy with you," she promised.

"I know," he said. "Why don't you go ask Minerva about your theory of the Founder's portraits. She should be back from London by now."

"Meaning you want me out of your way?" she asked.

"Precisely," he said. She gave him a dirty look but left him to his own devices.

It took her some time to climb from the dungeons to the head office. Her feet were swollen and she had to stop and rest in empty classrooms. McGonagall was in her office, thankfully, and welcomed Hermione in with a small smile.

"Any day now, dear, you'll have a beautiful child."

"With a big nose and unmanageable hair," she said, sitting down.

"But smart as a whip," she said, and Hermione smiled. McGonagall leaned forward. "I'd bet 10 galleons that you're growing a Ravenclaw."

"I'll keep that between us," Hermione said. "How did you find London?"

"Warm," McGonagall said.

"Indeed. I actually had a question."

"Go ahead," McGonagall said, sitting behind her desk.

"Would you know of any…documents about our founders?" she asked.

"I assume you mean outside of our own library," McGonagall said, knowing Hermione knew the library as well as anyone could.

"Yes."

"At the Ministry, perhaps, in the reserves but I doubt you'll get access without higher education," she said. "Severus could get in easily."

"Is there… do you know of… did anyone ever paint the founders?" she asked.

"I don't know of anything like that," she shook her head. "I know this task is plaguing you, Mrs. Snape, but it is only an enchantment and the castle is still a castle without it," McGonagall assured her.

"What am I supposed to do instead?" Hermione asked softly.

"Your awards ceremony is next month," McGonagall reminded her.

"My medal," Hermione didn't seem too excited.

"I know it seems pale compared to what was lost, but in the eyes of the general public, it is a grand honor."

"I know," she said, looking up at Dumbledore's portrait. "I have so many questions."

"When the school year starts, perhaps. I have my hopes," she said. "Good day."

Hermione left the office and made her way down to the dungeons again. Everyday, her mother sent her something through a wizard-Muggle mailing service. She got baby clothes, rattles, cloth nappies, and she stacked it all neatly in the living room. They would need a real space for the baby very soon.

oooo

It was a week before the ceremony when Hermione began to lose control of her magic. She'd spent a few hours stitching pockets for her wand into all her clothes so she could always have it with her, but she didn't use it very often. When she wanted something, it came to her without motion or words. Snape grumbled about it, warning her not to get used to it because it would end with the pregnancy's end but she still enjoyed it.

One night, she was having a strange dream and woke up terrified to the sound of everything glass in the room shattering. She threw her arms over her head and looked around once the dust had settled. Each had a few minor lacerations from broken glasses, mirrors, and vases and Snape was looking at her with an expression that bordered on horror.

"Merlin," he said. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"What? I didn't do it," she said.

"You did so," he said. "Scared me to death."

"I didn't… not on purpose," she said, feeling tears well up. Spots of blood were dripping on to the bedclothes and that couldn't be cleaned out. He took his wand and sent the glass away and got out of bed carefully.

"Let's go see Poppy," he said, urging her to get up.

"It's early," she said.

"You just exploded our bedroom, get out of bed," he snarled.

"I have to pee," she said, putting on her robe, but she was too big to tie the sash.

"There's glass in there, just wait," he sighed.

"Your child is sitting on my bladder, I'll clean up the bloody glass," she snapped and then burst into fresh tears. She cleared the glass with a wave of her hand and slammed the bathroom door. He was waiting for her and did not apologize but he did put his hand on her neck and rubbed the tense muscles there while they walked at her slow pace.

"Hermione," he said. "What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't want to be pregnant anymore," she said, ignoring his question. She was still crying and her outpouring of emotion was upsetting the castle in their wake. She was rippling tapestries, denting suits of armors and putting hairline fractures into windows – windows that had just only been repaired. Snape could feel her power ebbing and flowing, raising the hair on his neck and forearms. His pace was calm and steady and he had never been near a pregnant woman before, not like her, and he wasn't sure it was normal.

By the time they got to the infirmary, their cuts had clotted on their own, but Pomfrey still cleaned and healed them. Hermione was exhausted, it wasn't yet five am, and so she dozed on the bed, while Pomfrey checked her out; putt her cool hands on her cheeks and neck and stomach. Hermione was calm now, with Snape sitting nearby, his hand on her ankle, and so the outpouring of magic had ceased but Pomfrey was still making clucking noises.

"What's wrong?" Snape asked.

"Nothing is wrong, per se," she said, leaving the bed and walking to a bookshelf filled with thick references. She pulled a book out and opened it. "I think, for the sake of safety that you should take her to St. Mungo's for a check-up and then it's strictly bed rest until the baby comes."

Hermione knew this was coming; she'd been spending most of her days sitting or lying down anyhow. But it meant she wouldn't be there to receive her medal and she knew Snape would chafe against collecting it on her behalf.

"I'd hoped," she called from the bed, and Snape came over to hear her better. "I'd hoped I'd be one of those girls who just looks like she has a watermelon taped to her front. Instead I've gained 35 pounds and have completely lost control of myself."

"You're fine," he said. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'll be if I want to," she hissed, and Pomfrey jumped a little, like she'd been zapped.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Snape, you could focus your outbursts into something positive instead of something destructive," she offered.

"Go get something for me to wear," she said to Snape, ignoring Pomfrey's optimism. "If we have to go to hospital, I'd rather we do it now than later."

She closed her eyes and tried to do something positive despite herself with the kind of reckless abandon she was feeling. She though about her childhood, reading books with bright pictures and having her mother pull on her tights with her legs stick straight in the air. She thought about her vacation to the states when she was younger, much before Hogwarts, and going to church on Sunday morning. Her older cousin, already sixteen, sang a song about the white wings of a dove in a clear, high soprano.

She was much calmer when she opened her eyes and Snape was there, holding her dress and some other things and he was smiling at her. It was a Snape smile – no teeth and to be looked for, but there and she wasn't mad, anymore.

St. Mungo's told her bed rest and she tried not to feel like the trip was a waste. In London, Snape had bought her an ice cream and a stack of books and he had doted over her on her last day out and when she mentioned the ceremony, he just nodded, and said, "I'll do anything you want," and she had kissed him.

Instead of taking to her bed, she went and sat in the great hall, which echoed with emptiness. It was too hot to start any fires in the large fireplaces but she did conjure a pile of soft pillows and laid her heavy body on the Hufflepuff table to look up into the dark rafters. The baby had been positioned in such a way that it had been pinching all day and she closed her eyes and thought about the ceiling as it once was, the way she saw it as a young girl. When she opened her eyes it was still just a ceiling but the baby had moved and the great pressure on her spine was relieved, at any rate.

oooo

The ceremony was early in the morning, because it was summer and no one liked to travel midday in August. He left her to the empty hall. She had been spending a lot of time there, and had since turned the rafters dark blue and suspended stars but none of it was real – it was an illusion that would fall away over time. It had made McGonagall laugh, however, and shake her head.

Hermione was heavy, so heavy with the baby and she knew the boy would be large when he came out, eight pounds at the very least and her with no real height and only moderately sized hips. He would take after his father, she hoped, tall and with long fingers and high arches in his feet.

Only an hour after Snape had left, the dull ache in her back came sharp and sudden and she knew that it was time. With each sharp pain, _contraction_, her mind filled in, there was a burst of magic. An hour after the pain started, she had started roaring fires in the fire places, broken all the windows, and had a tree push through the stone of the floor in the middle of the room, growing and strong. It was the positive thing she had done. She knew she should try to find Pomfrey but she also knew that she would never have this raw magical strength ever again.

Soon it was lunch and her water had broken and McGonagall came in gaping.

"Hermione!" she screeched, and rushed over. "This is the most unbecoming thing I've ever seen."

"Look," Hermione whispered, slicked with sweat and pain and loneliness. Above them there was a swirling of color that looked like the beginning of a solar system, or perhaps the birth of a star.

"Good heavens," McGonagall said. "You're exhausted and this is enough for one day."

"I'm in labor," Hermione corrected. "I can't stop."

"Where is…" McGonagall trailed off and out of the room and Hermione didn't know if she was looking for Snape or Pomfrey but she came back with both, somehow. Snape was holding a velvet box that probably contained her award and she felt sorry she sent him on that errand when the Ministry loathed him so.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately but above them, there were clouds and blue of every shade and she wasn't sure how she was doing it, but it was like the recipe had been there all along, locked away in her brain and she'd only now found the power to unlock the secret. All she had to do was think and concentrate and it began to appear. It wasn't a charm, after all, but residue of a once great power.

"Do all witches get like this?" Snape had asked at St. Mungo's and the healer had shook her head.

"Some, but not all," she had said, looking at Snape with sympathy.

Now Snape watched his wife enter into heavy labor with a look of pure confusion and all he could say was, "The Hufflepuff table?"

She would have laughed, if she could have. Pomfrey was there, using her wand to snip of her huge maternity knickers and pushing her knees apart. The gasp that followed told Hermione she had probably waited too long in pursuit of her goal.

"She can't be moved now," Pomfrey said. "Severus, you must go to the infirmary and get what I need."

"Send Minerva," he said.

"I don't have time to make a list for her, you already know," Pomfrey hissed. Hermione was trying to listen but the next contraction that hit was fierce and stars exploded behind her eyes and above them. Snape was reluctant to leave but he did, and he took off running. Hermione couldn't possibly focus anymore and she was happy that she had broken everything there was to break already.

"Anything… for the… pain?" she gasped and this made Pomfrey smile tersely.

"Women have been doing this forever, dear," she reminded Hermione who was not at all comforted. "We will get you through this."

McGonagall looked for all the world like she wanted to leave and Hermione wanted her to leave also.

"Write my parents," she said and McGonagall nodded, rushing away. Snape returned with an armful of glass jars which Hermione tried not to break and only cracked so their contents oozed out slowly.

"You're going to need to push," Pomfrey said, "With this next one."

It was horribly embarrassing, the situation of giving birth. Were anyone in the castle in the last few weeks before school besides those who had already seen her, she would have been fully on display for them. Pomfrey was taking handfuls of salve and rubbing straight between her legs. It was part painkiller and part something that made her tingle and stretch and she was grateful for the intrusion. Snape held her hand and wisely said nothing, watching with wide eyes.

It was several hours before the child was pronounced to be a live, healthy boy and the ceiling charm was once again intact. Pomfrey quickly moved the new mother and child to the infirmary and Snape eagerly followed. McGonagall stayed behind, while the house elves uncomplainingly cleaned up the mess made by child birth. The ceiling was still thick with stars even though it was day outside. She knew that while the ceiling was enchanted, it would be different. Change had enveloped most of the castle anyhow and this would have to be only one more thing.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione was still sore and exhausted when the children came back to start the school year. The baby cried all the time, was always hungry, always needed to be changed and the surge of power Hermione had enjoyed while pregnant was definitely gone.

Snape had to go back to work leaving Hermione alone during the day to care for their son but it was hard. Harry came first, to look at the baby who had pale skin and dark, wispy hair.

"Where did the blue eyes come from?" he asked.

"Those will probably fade, Harry, all babies are born with blue eyes," she said, yawning. He didn't stay long.

Hermione liked to sleep during the day with the baby in the big bed. She liked to curl around him and smell his baby smell and touch his soft skin. Madame Pomfrey had told her that she was healing quite nicely but it still hurt. Her body felt foreign, like it belong to some other women. Those were not her wide hips or her heavy breasts. She was no longer a girl.

She was somebody's mother, and sometimes, it scared her.

When she was well enough, she went home to see her parents. Her parents took the baby and Hermione, exhausted from travel, went upstairs to get some uninterrupted rest.

The sun was lower in the sky when her mother knocked lightly and came into the room. Hermione's breasts were full and uncomfortable and she felt like a cow, needing to be milked. Her mother didn't have the baby with her though. She had a glass of water and some biscuits and she laid down next to her daughter and held her in her arms.

"My baby girl," she whispered, kissing Hermione's forehead.

"That's me," Hermione said tiredly.

"Your father is enamored," her mother said. "A little boy."

"I know. Harry wants to teach him to play Quidditch already and he's not a month old," Hermione laughed. "I told him he had to wait a bit."

"I remember what it's like," her mother said. "It's like a white canvas and you get to fill it with whatever you want. It's hard not to start right away."

"Right now I just want him to sleep through the night and change his own nappy," Hermione said. "It's difficult."

"That will pass, my love," her mother assured her. "Come down and eat something."

As Hermione descended the stairs, she saw her father holding her son in the living room, twirling him around slowly in a patch of late afternoon sun.

oooo

At night, Brian slept in the crib nearby and Severus slept with one eye open.

"He's fine," Hermione murmured. "You're not getting any sleep."

"I'm sleeping," he said.

"Right now?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Now be quiet."

"Hmph," she said, and rolled over so her back was to him. "Just keep taking it out on your students then."

She was right, it was what he was doing. The older students had harbored high hopes for Snape this year. The war was over, he was married, and had a new baby. Perhaps he would change his ways, make potions a class, not a punishment. But.

Severus was Severus, after all and Hermione was secretly glad that he hadn't changed because she wanted the man that she fell in love with to stay that man.

Sometimes she went to meals and the students who had known her as a peer watched in awe as Severus draped his arm across the back of her chair while she cooed at her son, coaxing him to stay quiet in the loud room. Ginny tucked her long hair behind her ears and waved at Hermione who winked at her with a maternal glow.

Sometimes, just after curfew but before it was too late, Hermione would go into the great hall and show her son the ceiling, the swirling galaxies, the brightest stars, the pink and purple and blue nebula that lingered overhead.

"We made that together," she would whisper and his unfocused eyes would stare up at the colors until he fell asleep. Sometimes she would stay too long and Severus would come and put his hand on her back and lead her away, back to bed.

At night, she dreamed of stars.

The End


End file.
